Forbidden Dreams
by Ashita polar
Summary: AU POLAR. A series of vignettes that came together into their own little universe; based on prompts supplied on Polar Attraction. While not a full story, all are connected and spawned three short stories, plus a potential epic. Skips around in time.
1. Radiant

**Title:** Forbidden Dreams  
**Disclaimer:** The characters of "Roswell" belong to Jason Katims, Melinda Metz, and 20th Century Fox. They are not mine and no infringement is intended.  
**Pairings:** Michael/Liz; others TBD  
**Rating:** Adult  
**Summary:** A series of drabbles/vignettes that have become their own universe. Responses are based on prompts at Polar Attraction. Drabbles range from when the characters are nine-years-old and span to their late twenties. This is an alternative universe and things will be different from canon.

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**Radiant**

Rich mahogany hair cascades over her shoulder, chocolate eyes flashing with laughter, her soft smile gleaming as she laughs with her friends. Even at the tender age of nine, I can see the life, the pureness that radiates softly from her entire being.

She is not flashy like the other girls at school, always vying for attention, but more like the moon and it's cool, dreamy light. A beauty often overlooked but all the more stunning in its quietness. Everything about her shines, basking in that quiet glow.

My edges are rough. I'm not shiny, not new, I am impure – nothing about me is perfect. I am her opposite in so many ways. My light died long ago when I was yanked from home after home only to find residence with a man who only values the check he receives from my being his ward.

I wonder, if I touch her, if I draw close to her, will I shine like the rest of her circle? Will she be able to rekindle that spark beaten from my soul? Or will I dull her luster; taint the purity that shines in her eyes.

"Michael, come play," a soft voice whispers shyly. I look up to see her before me, that sweet smile shining at me, her hand about to reach out and touch mine. Flinching, I avert my eyes and jerk out of her reach, never seeing the hurt flit across her face.

She walks away, shoulders hunching a bit, the glow still present but not as vibrant as before. I can't risk it. I can't risk that the taint of who I am will completely dull her beauty. Better for me to never know such radiance than to watch the light die from her eyes.


	2. Oak

**Oak**

Sunlight streamed through the leaves, casting shadows over her upturned face, a small serene smile gracing it as she leaned against the oak behind her, staring contentedly into the endless summer sky. How he wished he felt even a small measure of the peace reflected in those shining espresso eyes.

Kicking the dirt near his toes, he ducked his head, and sighed, feeling bad that he had blown off her overture of friendship a few months back. He had been afraid that his imperfections would rub off and diminish the bright hope in her eyes, but lately he had to wonder if it were possible. Nothing seemed to dim the radiance that surrounded her.

Not even his gruffness deterred her for long. It amazed him.

If he were a more fanciful child, he'd wonder if she were a fairy child or angel bound to Earth, but his dreams had been torn apart so many times he has a hard time believing in fairytales or other fancies. It's easier for him to believe in the monster in the closet, or really the monster that lived just down the hall, waiting to catch him with heavy fists, hate and harsh words.

And yet, if there were anyone to whom he would attribute such qualities, it would be her. Why else would he be so drawn to her light? How else could she have the power to keep him coming back despite all his intentions to stay away?

Walking across the lawn absently, he wondered what might have happened if he hadn't pushed her away, had he accepted the offer of unconditional acceptance that left him daunted and uncertain. Would he have found a little peace of his own? Or would it just remind him of everything that was lacking in his bleak world?

It had been for the best anyway. He'd probably just screw it up like he did everything else and she'd end up hating him, if she didn't already considering his callous attitude every time she approached him. Between his freakish nature and his unsavory background, he couldn't allow her to break through his walls – they would only hurt her and destroy him for being behind her downfall.

He had to stay away for her own good. To do anything more would destroy everything that fascinated him; everything he loved about her.

Looking up, he startled to find himself standing a few feet from the oak tree again; just out of her line of sight, although he knew she was aware of his presence. Drawn to her, he had done this on many occasions, stopping just short of her tree before quickly turning away and putting as much distance between them as possible.

Heart pounding, he froze and swallowed hard, about to leave when she turned, meeting his eyes with a soft smile. Getting lost in the most beautiful, kind eyes he'd ever seen, he didn't even notice his traitorous feet moving her way until he was on her and sliding along the trunk a few inches away.

Still holding his gaze, her smile brightened and she reached out, her hand coming to rest on the ground a couple inches from his own, leaving the ball in his court. A fine tremor shook him, his throat clenching as he frantically tried to decide whether to run or take her hand. This would change everything one way or another.

Lifting his trembling hand, he touched hers, a cold sweat breaking over his brow as fear and uncertainty coursed through his body, worried that she'd flinch and pull back, leaving him in the cold once again. His breath stuttered when her hand clasped his, her fingers entwining with his quietly and she tipped her face back to the clouds, a content smile on her face.

Watching her with wonder, he felt his own lips curve into a half smile and tipped his own face to the sky, letting the sun's rays and her gentle soul warm the cold that always wrapped around his heart, at peace at least for that small moment.


	3. Island

**Island **

I stiffly walk to school, the bruises from Hank's latest binge have yet to set, but movement is still difficult. By the age of eleven, I have learned that there is something about me that is unlovable.

Not that it matters to me. I'm used to being alone, abandoned by my 'family' the minute they saw potential sanctuary, leaving me to face the cold desert night on my own.

They did find me again. Claimed they wanted me to come with them, but I balked. Claimed they loved me.

But I know the truth. If it weren't for our otherworldly similarities, Max and Isabel would never speak to me, a kid from the wrong side of the tracks. They would be too busy playing house, safely ensconced with their perfect family.

They can afford the illusion. I cannot. I'm faced with unsavory reality every day of my life. It's there to greet me with insults, careless slaps, drunken tirades and hungry, sleepless nights.

But I don't care. Because one day I'll get off this stupid rock and find a better life. The one I'm meant to have.

In the meantime, I'm a stonewall, an island unto myself whose shores can't be breached by the taunts, the violence, by the sweetness denied to me. I am untouchable.

Walking onto campus, I'm greeted by carefree laughter and shrieks of joy. Izzy and Maxwell giggle ahead of me. A blue-eyed boy is being chased by a blond pixie, while a shy brunette laughingly watches. My heart cracks, almost breaks at the bleakness of my life.

But I don't care. I'm immune. I'm an island, a stonewall.

Squaring my shoulders, I let the mask of indifference clothe my true identity and keep walking. Because I'm untouchable. And if I keep telling myself this enough, one day I might actually believe it.


	4. Jasmine Petals

**AN:** I'm posting these two vignettes together as they are companions to each other and fairly short. Liz and Michael are about 13-years-old here.

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**Jasmine**

He slouches against the wall, hands crammed in his pockets, the sweet-spicy scent of jasmine wafting from the bushes by his side. The scent reminds him of her, the secret crush he's covertly observing; he stands here for that very reason, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone.

Sunlight slants over her chocolate strands, creating a halo affect as she sits on the grass quietly, book forgotten in her lap and stares at the flower in her hand, a dreamy smile touching her lips. He can't help but wonder what that smile means.

Her lips quirk in amusement as she starts to pluck its petals, playing that silly game girls like to play when they want to know if their crush loves them back. It's a stupid way to divine someone's feelings, yet he can't help the pang in his heart as he wonders which lucky fool caught her eye.

It's probably some sap like Max or Kyle, a kid from the right family, with the right friends and the perfect grades to match – someone unlike him. He doesn't know why he continues to watch her, why she fascinates him so much. Yet as he focuses on his infatuation, he can't help getting sucked into those eyes. Those eyes?

Snapping out of his musing, his heart jumps, hammering in his chest as he finds those sparkling toffee orbs watching him intently. Whiskey eyes widen under that speculative gaze and dart away as his palms dampen and his throat constricts, fearing he'd been caught. She's never noticed him standing there before. Has she?

Getting his breathing under control, he braves another glance to find her placing a single petal between the pages of her book, whispering something under her breath. And for a moment he allows himself to dream that it was his name on her lips.

~…~

**Petal**

She sits quietly on the grass, sun shining on glossy molasses locks, gazing at the purple flower in her hands and enjoys a moment of solitude as her friends race around the park.

Plucking the petals methodically, she chants a familiar childhood game girls have intoned for ages, "he loves me, he loves me not…." working her way through the numerous petals one by one until she came to her final petal.

"He loves me," she softly cries; hope sparkling in her deep brown eyes, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

She looks up happily, to find the golden gaze of her crush watching her intently before his eyes widen slightly at discovery and he hastily looks away.

Smile broadening, she caresses the petal between her fingers and pressing it between the pages of her book, whispers his name.

"Michael."


	5. Walk

**AN:** This is during Freshman year, so Liz and Michael are about 14-15.

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**Walk**

She cocked her head to the side as she stared at the painting in front of her, entranced by the vibrant red, orange and yellow accented with subdued pink and purple that made up Georgia O'Keeffe's Red Canna. A scientist at heart, she doesn't always understand the artistic mind, but something about this painting and its passionate colors calls to her.

Which is why she's spent most of her time ignoring the tour her art class is on and kept coming back to this one piece. And, so intent in her perusal, why she didn't hear a classmate walk up until he was standing inches from her back.

Looking over her shoulder, she was surprised to see Michael studying the painting quietly, turning his intense bourbon eyes down on her briefly when she looked up and then flicked them back, moving in until his chest was all but pressed into her back, standing almost too close for comfort.

Her breath hitched, back tingling in awareness when his arm lightly brushed against it and his earthy scent surrounded her as he leaned over her shoulder, his warm damp breath coalescing near her temple as he bent to read the nameplate on the wall.

Hearing her sharp intake of breath, his lips quirked in a half-smile and his dark gaze flicked back to her, sweeping over her lazily, taking her in as if he was memorizing every minute detail, his lips hovering inches from her skin.

Licking her lips nervously, her heart fluttered as she ripped entranced eyes from his lips, distractedly focusing on the art in front of her, breathing shallowly and whispered desperately, "It's beautiful."

His eyes drifted up to settle on her lips, watching the glistening pink flesh intently as she spoke, shifting unconsciously closer, his hand pressing against the small of her back. "Yeah, beautiful," he agreed breathlessly, never taking his eyes off her face.

Her startled gaze flicked back to his, taking in a shaky breath when she found his lips a couple inches from her own, eyes flaring as they met the whiskey gaze burning down on her. Reaching out hesitantly, she stroked her fingertips over his jean jacket, breath stuttering when his eyes darkened.

Breath ragged, he licked his lips and leaned in slightly, crowding her, watching as sable lashes fluttered closed, lying against flushed cheeks. Biting back a moan, he bent down; intent on tasting those lips just once, when a rustle near the door startled them out of their trance.

Their eyes flew to the door and seeing their class had caught up, he stared at her once more, before pulling away and turned around, throwing a smirk over his shoulder. "Later, Parker."

She watched him walk away, a shuddering sigh passing her lips and cursed her class's untimely arrival, wondering what might have happened if they had stayed away for just a few more minutes.


	6. Haunt

**AN:** Vignette contains lines from the episode Missing. I do not own these or claim them for my own. Only using them to set the scene.

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**Haunt**

Her brow creased with faint confusion as she absently fingered her journal, the soft, worn black leather retaining some residual warmth from being pressed against his skin and watched him warily, soft chocolate gaze drifting over the softening lines of his face. His bright whiskey gaze caressed hers in turn, his soft, full lips turning into a half smile as he took in her bewilderment.

"But why didn't you just destroy this, Michael?" she whispered, watching him through her lashes, squirming slightly under his intense gaze, an unexpected warmth rolling through her body, leaving her breathless and needy. Inhaling sharply, her eyes danced away a moment to regain control of her thoughts before returning to him, unsettled at the depth of fascination, of yearning, of…passion, stirring inside. "Because anyone that found this would know all about you."

"No, they'd know all about you, Liz," Michael refuted as he stared at her, fighting for impassivity, but a part of him couldn't help but react to the simmering burn in her gaze. Licking his lips quickly, his eyes drifted over her upturned face and he bit back a groan, his breath quickening with desire, mouth watering for a taste of her pale pink lips. Shifting, he leaned in slightly, his lips quirking at the hitch in her breath. "Thank you for giving me one more reason to envy Max Evans."

Reaching over, he brushed his hand over her cheek, tenderly pushing back a stray wisp of hair that had managed to work its way free from her band and gasped softly when she pressed her cheek against his palm. Swallowing thickly, his eyes drifted to her lips, experimentally brushing a thumb over them, heart thrumming when her tongue slipping out and inadvertently stroked the pad of his thumb in an attempt to wet her lips.

Mesmerized, their eyes caught and both forgot to breathe as he leaned in, cupping the back of her neck, his thumb running over her rapidly fluttering pulse. He brushed his lips over hers softly in a slow, sweet tease before pulling back, foreheads pressed together, their breath mingling as he sought any sign of resistance. Finding none, he sunk into her mouth, running his tongue over her lips teasingly and moaned when her pent up breath whispered into his mouth, her lips parting instinctively, inviting him in for a deeper taste.

Tangling his hands into her hair, he crushed his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue between her lips, exploring the damp recess thoroughly, wrapping it around hers and pull her tongue into his mouth, flirting, teasing it to life with insistent strokes. Digging her fingers into his hair, she tried to pull him closer, whimpering with frustration when the counter thwarted her actions.

Needing to feel her pressed against him, he growled in the back of his throat, sliding his hands down to her waist and yanked her up to drag her over the counter, not wanting to give up the intoxicating feel of her mouth long enough to move around the barrier. Head hazy with passion, she caught onto his plan and using his shoulders for leverage, vaulted over the counter frantically, sending the cake display crashing to the floor in her haste.

Slamming her against counter top, he nudged her legs apart, sliding between them, both shuddering with need, a moan rumbling deep in their throats as callused hands slid over silky skin and rigid denim pressed against hot, wet lace. Wrenching his mouth free breathing became absolutely necessary, he latched his mouth against her thrumming pulse, sinking teeth into her flesh and she cried out as liquid heat rushed through her veins…

Blinking, she startled at the distant rumble of her name, snapping her back to attention and flushed slightly, realizing Michael had moved from his seat and was standing by the door. Clearing her head of the last remnants of her unexpected fantasy, she clutched her journal tighter to her chest, licking her lips nervously.

"And you might want to get better window locks," he said, giving her a small smile and noting the pink staining her cheeks, a warm knowing glance passed through his eyes briefly before they blanked once more and he turned towards the door. "For when your criminals happen to be human."

Dipping her head slightly, she smiled as she stared at his retreating, dazed wonder gracing her face and her teeth sunk into the soft flesh of her bottom lip, drawing a rush of blood to its surface. His words echoed through he head in an endless loop, dark brandy eyes emblazoned into her mind. _Thank you for giving me another reason to envy Max Evans?_ What exactly had he meant by that?


	7. Bellow

**Bellow **

"Get your useless ass back here, boy!" the slovenly drunk man bellowed, staggering as he lumbered after me, my blood chilling with cold anger as I stalked out the door, escaping the oppressively hot tin-can that masquerades as my home.

My lips curl with bitter contempt as the slob that pretends to care during the social worker's monthly visit, but usually makes my life a nightmarish hell stumbles, collapsing on the floor in a puddle of his own drool as he loses consciousness. A derisive smirk slips over my face as I rake an icy glare over him, flexing my hands and think of how easy it'd be to end his existence.

All it would take is flick of my wrist. But he's not worth it.

Wincing, I bring my hand to my throbbing cheek, swiftly changing a mottled black and blue because I never saw those iron fists flying. That's what I get for getting lost in dreams over a certain petite brunette – a lesson learned for reaching beyond my station even in my daydreams.

Laughing bitterly, I spit a mixture of saliva and blood and storm away from the trailer park, needing to get away before I gave into the cold temptation whispering seductively through my battered soul and head to the only place I shouldn't. To see her even if she never knows I'm there.

Clambering up the fire escape I've spent many a night contemplating, I fling one leg over the wall of her balcony before realizing she's not asleep as I expected but watching me apprehensively, journal open on her lap. Straddling the wall, I claw at my brow, wondering how to explain my presence, when she climbs out of her lawn chair, walking towards me.

"Michael?" she queries cautiously, soft chocolate gaze caressing my face, sucking in a startled breath as she takes in my bruised cheek, running the rest of the way to the wall. "Oh my God, Michael, what happened? Are you okay?"

Her hand reaches out, cupping my stinging cheek tentatively, brushing gentle fingers over the bruised flesh, sorrow filling her eyes as they met mine. Sliding my eyes closed, I turn my cheek, pressing it into her palm, rubbing against the soft skin, allowing myself one brief moment of comfort before remembering she wasn't mine to seek out.

Jerking away from her touch, I bit back a shuddering breath and shrug indifferently as I start to swing my leg back over the wall. Good going Michael, leave one form of temptation behind just to jump into another. "It's nothing. Just stumbled while doing rounds. See ya, Parker."

"Michael, wait!" she called, chewing on her bottom lip and shifting uncomfortably when I let my foot rest on her balcony again, watching her with bored apathy. "Let me take care of that for you. I…uh…I have an ice pack and did some first aid training this summer. And….umm...you…I'm a great listener if you, you know, need to talk."

Snorting derisively, I fix her with an incredulous look, and smirk. "Don't you ever get tired of saving people, Liz?" I asked unable to keep the bitter hostility out of my voice. Better to feel angry than give into the despair that lurked under the surface, leaving me open and vulnerable.

Her hand snaps back, confused hurt flitting across her face as she watches me wearily through sable lashes, pursing the lips that I dream of every night. "I just wanted to help, Michael," she whispered.

"Don't." I snapped, turning back to the wall, climbing down before I caved and sought sanctuary in soft pink lips and vanilla-scented skin, knowing only she could save me from myself, yet unwilling to drag her down into the abyss with me.

Dropping to the ground, I stare up at her once more, hands clenching as my mind and body warred, before breaking into a run, unsure who I was running from – her or myself.


	8. Eternal

**Eternal**

He'd run for miles and yet he couldn't get away, couldn't outrun her siren's call. It was there, whispering just as tauntingly as the cold did earlier, heating his blood like a warm summer wind. No matter how many times he runs, it always comes back to her, draws him back to her side

It's heaven and it's hell. In her presence he is both saved and damned. And like a addict faced with his choice addiction, he can't turn away, can't help but come back for more – she's in his head, in his blood, embedded so deeply under his skin, he'll never be able to exorcise her. Embedded so deeply in his heart he'll never escape.

And for the first time, he realizes, he doesn't want to. It's the truest emotion he's ever felt.

Trembling, he sits quietly in the shadows by her window, his entire body tense as he watches the steady rise and fall of her chest as she slumbers peacefully, wondering what it is about her that keeps him anchored to this life. Why does she have this hold on him?

His throat constricts, heart pounding as he presses his palm to the cool glass of her window, just one more barrier between him and his heart's desire. He can't help but wonder, if he dared push past that cold barrier, erased it as if it didn't exist, entered her inner sanctum, would he find salvation?

If he came to her and knelt by her side, dipping low to press his lips to hers, waking her with a kiss, would he find love and peace as all those fairytales girls love to read foretell? Would she wrap him in her arms, pull him into her bed and let him be reborn in the shelter of her body, in the heat of her kisses?

Or would she cringe, pull away as she realized it was the Dark Knight and not Prince Charming that was pivotal in her awakening, thus damning them both to a life with no satisfaction? Would he find condemnation instead of the sanctity he desperately seeks?

His uncertainty keeps him behind his carefully laid walls.

He continues his vigil until she stirs, snapping him from his musings and with one last lingering gaze, he pulls his palm from the glass, unaware of the glowing handprint he left behind and hurried to the ladder and slid down, walking away once more, realizing why he'll never escape – he's in love and love is eternal.


	9. Prophet

**Prophet**

Lying in her bed, she watched him come back to her despite his bitter parting words. She heard him the moment he stepped foot on her balcony. Knew it was Michael before she even saw him. No one would ever mistake his presence for anyone else.

She watched him quietly from beneath her lashes not wanting to scare him off yet again; amazed she was able to keep her breath deep and even in spite of the rapid fluttering of her heart. She knew he would be back eventually, having woken to his presence outside her window several nights over the years.

He thought he was hidden well in the shadows, but the full moon cast just the hint of light over his troubled features as he absently stared into her window, brow pinched in thought. She couldn't help but wonder at the pained expression on his face when he looked at her, wanted to move from her vigil, open the window, ask him in and wipe the sorrow from his deep honey eyes.

But given the raw emotions he tried to hide earlier, she didn't think he'd welcome her knowledge of his presence. He's always been careful to come when he thought she was sleeping, like a thief in the night, as if he were ashamed of his visits.

Her breath hitched slightly as he drew closer to her window, pressing his palm to the glass, his breath fogging up the glass slightly. Struggling to keep her breath soft and even, her heart pounded, hoping he'd breach whatever barrier kept him from talking to her earlier, only to be disappointed when he came no closer.

He sat there quietly for a few more moments before nodding to himself as if he had found the answer to unvoiced question and dropping his palm from the glass he turned away, walking towards her ladder, leaving a glowing palm on the window.

Slipping out of her bed quietly, so as not to alert him to her wakeful state, she huddled at her window and fit her hand to his mark as she watched him descend, knowing in a flash of intuition that no matter what happened down the road, the two of them were irrevocably bound on a crash course with each other.


	10. Rain

**Rain **

Cold, wet drops beat against her chilled skin, plastering her thin long-sleeved shirt to her body, tangled chocolate-colored hair dripping down her back. She can't believe that he kissed _her_, yet she witnessed it with her own eyes.

Sitting on the swing, she barely remembered her walk to the park; barely recalled anything other than the driving need to get away from the scene of his crime, the vision dancing before her eyes spurring her out of her room and down the fire escape in a desperate attempt to outrun the stabbing pain in her heart.

Leaning her head against the chain, her chest convulsed with heartbroken sobs, her tears mingling with the tears of the sky and couldn't help but think bitterly that it was the perfect foliage for her mood. How could he tell her he loved only her and then moments later be wrapped in another's arms?

Obviously he lied; she's not as special as she thought considering how fast he ran to the blond temptress that had been dogging him for days and shoulders shaking, she broke, purging the pain constricting her burning lungs.

Wrapped in her sorrow, she had no idea how long she'd been sitting there when she felt the familiar hum of a well-known presence hovering and tried to block him out. The last thing she needed was to see him gloat over her misery since he'd never been happy with her involvement with his friend from the beginning.

But, stubbornly he pressed on, not allowing her to shut him out, walking up until his legs brush her knees and rested his hands on each of the chains, crowding her with his overwhelming presence. Taking a shuddering breath, she looked up into his face, raindrops stinging her already tear-drenched eyes, asking flatly. "What do you want, Michael?"

Unreadable whiskey eyes stared down at her in silent perusal, tangled, tawny curls matted to his head and his face devoid of emotion, making it dificult for her to decipher his intent. Sighing, she pushed a dripping lock of hair behind her ear. "Look, if you came to say 'I told you so,' please don't. I…I can't take it tonight," she choked, voice cracking with repressed emotion as she dipped her head with resignation and stared at her feet intently.

"I didn't," he stated quietly, kneeling before her, jeans soaking up the water puddled at her feet and dipped his own head, trying to meet shattered ebony irises. Sliding his hands down the chains, he steadied himself before lifting a hand from the swing to brush a callused thumb across her cheek and gently swiped at the co-mingled rain droplets and tears streaking her face.

Tracing stiff, callused fingers over her cheek, he lightly grasped her jaw and tipped her chin up to look into her eyes, their faces so close that warm, damp breath feathered over one another's lips. "He's not worth these, Liz," he rasped, voice rough with repressed anger, a fierce light sparking in dark bourbon eyes as they traveled over her upturned face and he suppressed an impatient grunt when coffee orbs squeeze shut and she bit down on her lower lip to hold back a watery sigh.

Licking his lips nervously, he ran a thumb over her lip and gently tugged on it, dislodging it from clenched teeth and his breath caught, heart picking up in tempo as the pale skin plumped, flushing a soft cherry red as he rubbed the sting away.

Inhaling sharply, she shivered delicately as confused, smoky eyes flew open at the soft caress, her own breath catching when he flicked his eyes back to hers and he swallowed hard, that inscrutable gaze matching the warm confusion swimming in hers. Licking her own lips, her throat clenched as sherry-tinted flames flickered briefly in his eyes before he forced his wall back up and heart fluttering, she couldn't help but wonder why she never noticed how beautiful they are.

Drawing a sharp breath, he leaned his head against the chain, eyes slamming shut as his heart beat out a staccato rhythm and bit back a quiet moan, pulling his hand from her cheek abruptly to shove through drenched waves, breaking the spell between them.

Breath coming in shallow puffs, she sucked air back into her starving lungs, her bewildered, faintly contemplative gaze caressing the man before her in wonder and reached out to touch his cheek, her hand dangling in the air when he stood and grasping it, pulling her from the swing. "Come on, Parker, let's get you home," he rasped brusquely, slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders, then tucked her hand in his as he strode out of the park, intent on seeing her safely home.

Walking back in silence, they each fell into their own thoughts, him wondering if he'd shown all his cards far too soon and her waking up for the first time in months. Startling as they reached her apartment, he let go over her hand, a chill passing through them both at the loss of warmth and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You should go in before you get sick," he commanded quietly, gazing over her shoulder at end of the alley, shoulders hunched and mask in place. He looked back when she continued to stand there quietly watching him.

Keeping her gaze anchored with his, she walked over and placed a hand on his cheek, lifting up on tiptoe to kiss the other. His eyes slid shut briefly at the soft brush of lips and then met hers silently as she lowered herself to the ground. Staring at each other a moment longer before she turned and climbed the stairs to her balcony, crawling over the wall and then looked down at him, a small smile tugging her lips.

Ducking his head, he scuffed his shoe for a moment before looking up and a slow smile spread across his face as he turned to walk down the alley, pausing at the end to look back once more, nodding before he disappeared around the corner.

Watching his retreating back, a soft smile tugged at her heart and she realized for the first time since she'd seen her so-called soulmate kissing _destiny_ that things would be just fine. Life had awakened to new possibilities.


	11. Palm

**Palm**

He stared at his palms, anguish flooding his body, his stomach churning with horror over the destructive forces that reside within him.

He's a murderer. He's the reason the government is justified in its desire to eradicate alien life – or at least his life. He doesn't deserve to live.

Heart hammering, he shoved a hand through his hair before dropping his head into his palms, clenching his jaw and bit back a moan of despair, unaware of the soft click of his door opening.

A soft hand ran over his hair, making him flinch, pulling away from her comforting touch. "Don't," he choked past the lump lodged in his throat, staring at the carpet intently, unable to meet her eyes fearing he'd see condemnation in their depths.

"Michael…" she rasped softly, kneeling before him, reaching for his hands.

"Don't! I might hurt you," he cried hoarsely as he jerked away, his breath coming in shallow puffs, fear icing his heart and making his blood chill. He'd never live with himself if he hurt her.

Reaching up, she lifted his chin, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You would never hurt me," she refuted firmly, stroking his cheek gently, eyes tearing at the devastation lurking behind his habitually dispassionate eyes.

Taking his hands again, she raised them to her lips and placed a soft kiss in each palm to show her trust in him, keeping her toffee eyes anchored with dark whiskey.

He looked away frantically, his chest constricting, and caved, a sob breaking free under that compassionate, tender gaze. Pulling her to him jerkily, he lost himself in her arms and face buried against vanilla-scented hair; purging the grief and fear that's held him captive all day.


	12. Hatred and Rage

AN: I am including two vignettes in this because the first is less than 200 words.

* * *

**Hatred**

The world was going to end, or at least that's what he said when he crashed onto my balcony that night. He said our love killed everyone near and dear. Our love. I guess I continued to fool him even then.

Maria thought I went along with it in order to save the masses but my motives were far more selfish. I let her think that because how do you tell your best friend, the sister of your heart, it was the love of her life's death and the prevention of it that moved you to such extremes?

God, he died. Michael died and if the future version of Max is to be believed, he never knew how she really felt. She didn't have the courage to truly follow her heart, instead capitulating to the idea of being Perfect Parker – a girl who always did the right thing for everyone other than herself.

I want to hate the messenger, the future who is proof of my weakness. I want to hate the current version for being blind to reality. But in the end, the blame and hate can only be laid at one door – my own.

~...~

**Rage**

Nerves frayed, she seethes as she swipes a towel over the table, brooding over a certain cantankerous alien cleaning the kitchen, wondering what has set him on edge this time. He's been testing her patience all night.

Actually, to be completely honest, it really started back in Las Cruces, when he sent the pulsing, red triangle sailing through the window, saving all of their lives.

"You want to stop daydreaming and move your ass, Parker?" Michael called from the kitchen, voice tight with irritation. "I'd like to go home sometime tonight."

Huffing, Liz spun around and glared at him through the order window, lips pressed together mutinously.

"Yes?" he challenged, raising a brow, face twisted in a derisive smirk.

Narrowing her eyes, Liz's blood boiled as she threw down her towel and stalked to the kitchen, slamming the door. "What crawled up your ass, Michael?" she grated.

"Nothing," he bit out, turning his back to her and attacking the grill with a wire brush, scrubbing with all the frustrated anger smoldering under his blank façade. God, he'd almost lost her in Las Cruces and she didn't even care.

"Nothing?" she scoffed. "Then what's with the attitude tonight?"

"I said it's nothing," he grit his teeth, scrubbing harder, brow pinched with annoyance.

"Right. Of course not," she snarked over her shoulder as she headed out the door. "That would imply that something made it past your stonewall."

His head whipped around and he stared after her incredulously, brush forgotten in his hand, indignant rage smoldering in his eyes.

Throwing the brush onto the grill, he ripped his apron off, tossing it on the counter and pursued the tiny brunette, lips tight with suppressed anger. So, she wanted to fight did she? Well, bring it on.

"Want to say that to my face, Parker?" he stalked over to her, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around, leaning over her menacingly, breath labored from the rage coursing through his veins. Damned if he was going to put up with the implication that he didn't care after everything he'd done to prove otherwise when they were in Las Cruces.

Stepping into him, not at all daunted by his intimidation tactics, Liz got in his face, meeting his glare unflinchingly. "Sure, Michael, I said something would have to get past your stonewall for that to happen," she grit between her clenched teeth, eyes flashing with irritation.

Letting out a primal growl of rage, Michael wrapped his hands around her upper arms, pulling her up to him, faces pressed nose to nose, his caramel eyes a blazing inferno. "Is that what you really think, Parker? Wait, why bother asking, of course you do. It's just me, right?"

She let out a little squeak as he gave her a little shake, her eyes widening in astonishment at the anger blazing out those typically indifferent eyes, and shook her head frantically, finally realizing what she'd implied in her fit of temper. "No. No, no, no, Michael…"

"Did you even think about what could have happened in Las Cruces if I hadn't followed you? Where you'd be if I hadn't been there to stop that bomb?" he grit out, ignoring her protestations as anguish filled him at the thought of how close he'd come to losing both girls. "You'd be lying right next to Alex and where would we be then? Do you think we'd survive losing all three of you?"

"Michael, no, I'm sorry," she cried, voice cracking as the reality of her actions hit her. She'd been so wrapped up in discovering Alex's murderer and proving it was alien related that she hadn't stop to think of how it'd affect the rest of the group. "I wasn't thinking…"

"That's right, Liz, you weren't thinking," he bit out, letting her go to shove his hands through his hair, pacing the length of the room in agitation. Liz stood stock still, remorseful eyes watching the frantic man pacing in front of her. Michael spun around to face her, fixing her with a fulminating glare, chest heaving with ragged breaths.

"You weren't even going to tell us where you went!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at her. "If I hadn't pinned Maria down and gotten an answer out of her, we would have had no idea what happened! We'd still be looking for you frantically! And you have the nerve to say…I…you know what, screw this!"

Michael spun around to stalk back through the door but stopped after three steps, shoving his hands through his hair, taking in deep breaths to get his anger under control before the diner blew up around them.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Liz cried, face crumbling, heart cracking under the weight of her emotions. She'd never meant for this to happen. Never meant for it to go this far. Heart shattering sobs made her shoulders quake. "Oh God, Michael, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…I didn't want…I'm sorry."

His shoulders sagged, the anger draining from him under her remorseful pleading and squeezing his eyes closed, he took a shuddering breath. Resting his hands on his hips, he tipped his head back and trained his eyes at the ceiling, before turning back to face her.

Clawing at his eyebrow, he watched the sobbing girl with some discomfit, unsure of whether to take her in his arms and never let her go or shake her until her teeth rattled. Maybe he'd do both.

She covered her face with her hands, unable to meet the tall alien's eyes, horrified she'd taken her anger out on the one person who'd proven without a doubt he understood.

Giving in, he groaned and yanked her into his arms, wrapping her close to his heart, thankful for the rampant paranoia that made him follow the girls to Las Cruces; thankful that he has this opportunity to hold her in his arms rather than watching her being lowered into the cold earth that now embraces Alex.

"I know. Just next time you decide to go off half-cocked, tell me. Don't let me find out because I happen to catch you in the act," he choked, dropping his head to hers. "We've already lost Alex. I can't…we can't lose you too."


	13. Plastic, Vow, Futile

**Plastic **

He sees right through her, that plastic barrier she has constructed around herself. He doesn't understand why she bothers with the act. Actually, he wonders how the rest of them fell for it. She's become far too adept at masking herself since being submersed in the alien abyss.

But he knows, has watched her for far too long to be fooled.

They ask her if she's okay and as if programmed it flips on, the insincere smile that never reaches her eyes forever gracing her face. Liz has been an automaton ever since Alex's death.

She assures everyone that she's fine. She says she's forgiven him for letting her archenemy and Alex's murderer leave the planet.

It's a lie.

They believe her, her plastic shell just as shiny as her previous light and it fools them. Let's them live in happy oblivion. How can they not see that this artificial gleam is so different from her usual luminance? He shouldn't be surprised. They never could see what was right in front of them, especially the fearless leader.

So he watches and he waits, knowing that under enough pressure, even the sturdiest plastic cracks and she'll need someone there to pick up the pieces when she finally shatters.

~…~

**Vow**

She finally broke. He knew it would happen. Even the strongest fall under the right circumstances.

Her shoulders quake with heartbroken sobs; shuddering gasps that rip through her throat as she desperately tries to pull herself back together.

"Shhh. I'm here," he says softly, tightening his arms around her, rubbing her back soothingly. Brushing his lips against her temple, he pushes her hair out of her face and looks down into tear-stained eyes.

"I'll always be here," he vows.

"P-promise?" she asks hiccupping, arms wrapping around his chest.

"Promise," he whispers back, chest tightening with an unknown emotion.

~…~

**Futile**

"Resistance is futile!" I laughed as I held her squirming body down, arms stretched above her head in one hand while the other dances over her ribs, tears of mirth coursing down her cheeks.

"God, Michael, can you get any cornier?" she snorted, bucking her hips against my legs in an effort to dislodge me. "Get off me you oaf!"

"Not until you beg, Parker," I said reaching behind me to her feet, waggling my fingers threateningly.

"Never!" Liz squeals, laughingly pushing her hands against my chest, managing to get enough leverage to push me to the other side of the couch.

I was reaching for her again when her dad poked his head into the break room, shaking his head and smiling. "Okay, enough horsing around you two! Get back to work," he chuckled as he went back to his office.

Climbing off the couch, she smirks at me, smoothing down her impossibly short uniform and fixing her tangled hair.

"Resistance is futile…." She snorts under her breath, rolling her eyes as she heads back into the diner, antenna bobbing on her head.

Wistfully I smile and run a hand through my hair as I watch her retreating back and wonder if she'll ever realize that I wasn't really talking to her, but talking to myself when I said it.


	14. Teeth

**AN:** A year Post Grad. Bold italic text denotes telepathic thought.

* * *

**Teeth**

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she hid in the shadows of the van, hoping that Michael wasn't lurking nearby, waiting to pounce on her and discuss what happened two nights ago. So far she has managed to avoid this talk because they'd been trying to put as much distance between themselves and the FBI as possible, but she knows that he'll corner her soon enough.

The unbidden thoughts constantly running through each other's heads is more than enough to set the cranky alien even further on edge. Of all of the aliens, why did it have to be him? If Max shared this bond with her, she'd be ecstatic. Ava or Isabel, she could have handled. But being mentally linked to Michael?

Why couldn't her migraine have waited a few minutes so that she could have had Max heal her? But she knows it wasn't to be. Her vision didn't give any clear indication of when the FBI was going to strike and her headache would have slowed them down.

_Slinging our overnight bag onto my shoulder, I headed out the door, slamming it behind me in my haste, cringing as I ran into Michael and Maria's room. Wincing at the brightness, the throbbing behind my eyes increased, making me rub my temples. Trying to focus on what was happening around me, my vision blurred as the stabbing pain left me woozy and tears gathered behind my eyes._

_"Liz," Michael yelled. "LIZ!" The way he said it made me realize that it wasn't his first attempt to get my attention. This is one part of my so-called gift that I hate – the emotional aftermath and resulting pain. Shading my eyes, I glanced at Michael, cringing as pain ricocheted through my brain, trying to focus on what he was saying and failing._

_Finally giving up on talking, Michael just gestured to my head questioningly and spread his hands, intimating he could heal it if I wanted. Nodding my head gingerly, I waited while he placed his hands on my temples and a soft, warm glow infused my head, taking the pain away._

_Sighing with relief, I was startled to hear Michael's voice echo through my head, yet no words came out of his mouth. "__**I hope I don't hurt her**__."_

_"__**Michael?**__" I thought in confusion._

_Michael's face contorted in confusion, followed closely by fear as he heard my voice in his own. "__**Liz?**__"_

_"__**What…?**__" my thoughts were hazy as I tried to comprehend what was happening._

_"__**Later.**__" Michael grabbed my arm, pulling me along with him, Maria racing down the hall in front of us. "Are you okay now? Can you make it on your own?" he worried out loud._

_"Yeah, Michael, I'm fine. I'm good now, thanks. Let's go, the others are waiting," I replied, running down the hall after Maria with him on my heels._

_"__**I'm not so sure about that.**__" echoed through my head._

_"__**I heard that**__," I thought back unconsciously._

_"__**Fuck. Parker, later you and I need to talk**__," he cursed as we were racing to the van._

A hand clenched my upper arm and spun me around, shattering my reverie and forcing me to meet annoyed whiskey eyes. Watching him with some trepidation, I realize that I'm not going to be able to put this off any longer.

"Glad you finally admit that, Parker," he smirked. "Let's go. You and I have grocery duty and we'll talk while we're on our way to town. Can't have the Royal Control Freak know about it until we've figured out how to end this madness."

He herded me over to the passenger door and opened it, stepping aside, gesturing for me to get in. Sighing, I climbed in and slunk down in my seat as he slammed the door and hurried to the driver's side. I didn't fool myself into believing that door trick was any attempt of his to be chivalrous but really a ploy to make sure I didn't try to avoid this trip.

He snorted at my rambling thoughts as he climbed in, but refrained from answering, putting the van in drive and pulling out of our campsite. I can't wait until we can figure this out and I can get him out of my head before I go mad.

"Trust me, Parker, this is no picnic for me either. Do you really think I want to listen to the 'I Love Max Evans' channel 24/7?" he griped. "It was sickening enough before I had a permanent subscription. Now it makes me feel homicidal."


	15. Pain

**Pain**

"Okay, so I guess we should just meditate and connect with each other and once we do we'll follow that connection onto the metaphysical plane. Once we're there, we can see if it can be severed," I explained, looking up at him to see if he had any questions.

"Think it will work?" he asked, scratching his brow with agitation.

"No idea," I shrugged weakly. "There's no science book available for alien bonds, Michael. But we've ignored it, waiting to see if it would stop over time and it hasn't. We tried blocking it, cutting it off and it just reinstates itself when we least expect it. What else can we do?"

"I guess we'll find out when we get there," he sighed, sitting in front of me, taking my hands in his, and looking into my eyes, before closing them with a deep breath. "See you on the other side, Parker."

"Yeah," I muttered as I closed my eyes and tried to match my breathing to his, taking in long even breaths, searching for that link that connects us to one another. I felt a warm brush against my mind as our connection snapped into place and suddenly his presence surrounded me.

_"Liz?" he whispered to my right as I opened my eyes to a flat gray plain, Michael holding my hand and saw what looked like a glowing silver stream running down the plain between us. It pulsed and shimmered, stretching out as far as we both could see._

_I swallowed convulsively, staring at the stream in astonished wonder before looking at Michael, finding his eyes wide with amazement. "Think that's it?" I asked hoarsely._

_"You're the science geek, Parker," he snorted. "Why are you asking me?"_

_I looked up with a small measure of annoyance at his quip. "Well, you're the alien here. It's not like this is covered in biology 101," I replied sarcastically._

_He smirked at me, letting go of my hand walking along the stream across from me. "Well, we're here. Now what?" he shrugged impatiently._

_Looking over at him with exasperation, I frowned, brow pinching in confusion. To be honest, I had no idea what to do at this point. I didn't even think we'd make it here let alone actually make it appear. "Uh, I guess we find something to sever it with?" I said helplessly._

_Michael looked at me incredulously, then threw his arms out to sweep the barren plains around us and scoffed. "With what, Parker? There are so many things to choose from!"_

_"Oh for Gods sake, Michael! It's the metaphysical plain!" I cried with exasperation, feeling my patience with the tetchy alien unraveling rapidly. "It's in your mind. Why not try using it for once and think something into existence?"_

_He sent me a withering glare and sighed as he clawed at his eyebrow. "Right. Why didn't I think of that? Oh, I know! Because I don't spend all my time with my nose pressed in books looking up useless facts when I could be having a real life!"_

_"Not so useless now is it, Space_boy_?" I snarked, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him. He opened his mouth to argue further, but snapped it closed when he had no quick reply. Sending an annoyed glance my way, he drew a hand through his hair and scowled when he saw my smirk._

_"Whatever," he retorted. "Well here goes nothing." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, muttering under his breath about how he couldn't wait for this to be over. I shielded my eyes as a bright flash of light cut across the plain and when I opened them, Michael was standing there with a broadsword._

_"You know, we really need to do something about your Braveheart fixation, Michael," I snorted, laughing when he glared at me._

_"Shut up, Parker," he griped, grasping the sword in his hands and raising it over his head before looking over at me with a fulminating glance. "Ready?"_

_"Knock yourself out, Wallace," I snickered, resting my hands on my hips._

_He swung the sword down over the pulsing bond, sparks shooting from the edges of the chink in the stream as the sword cut through the top._

_My knees buckled as pain shot through my body, eating away at my nerves like acid on skin, burning me from the inside out. A piercing scream ripped from my throat and my body began to convulse as I fell to the ground, millions of hot prickles searing my skin. I felt like I was burning alive. I clawed at my skin trying to ease the prickling, but nothing stopped the radiating burn that flowed through my veins._

_Writhing in agony, I heard Michael cry my name from a distance, as the sword clanged to the ground and hurried footsteps echoed through my head before I mercifully blacked out, the cool darkness enveloping me a welcome change to the aching burn and emptiness that overwhelmed my senses when he hacked into our bond. I was safe here._

"Liz! LIZ! God damn it, Liz, wake up!" Michael screamed in my ear frantically as he shook me forcefully, cutting through the formless, black void. I sucked in a deep breath, chest convulsing as I regained consciousness, crying out a little at the residual burn flowing down my nerves and coughed.

Cracking my eyes open, I expected to find us still on the metaphysical plain and was surprised to find myself back in Michael's hotel room, in his arms, his face frozen with fear. Groaning, I raised a shaky hand to my throbbing head, my muscles screaming in protest at being used.

"Jesus. Jesus, Liz, don't ever do that to me again," he cried breathlessly, crushing me to his chest, pressing his face against my head. "I thought…you weren't breathing…I thought I had killed…I thought you were dead. Jesus. We shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have…I shouldn't have pushed us to explore this…God."

"Michael," I said weakly, trying to raise my hand to his hair only to have it fall nerveless and limp to the bed, as I hadn't yet regained my strength. He squeezed my body tighter, pressing me to him as his own trembled around me. "Michael, it's okay. We didn't know. We couldn't have anticipated this."

"This is my fault," he choked, voice guilt wracked and breath thready as he ran his hands over my hair. "I shouldn't have pushed us to sever the bond. We could have easily lived with it. I shouldn't have…God, Liz."

"Hey. Hey!" I called to him, grimacing as I attempted to raise my arm again, waves of pain skittering over my nerves. I pushed against his chest, looking up into tortured honey eyes when he leaned back. I cupped his jaw, forcing him to meet my steady gaze. "This is _**not**_ your fault. I'm fine. We're fine. We couldn't have anticipated that reaction."

He looked at me seriously, fear and pain clouding his eyes, his heart pounding against mine and shook his head imperceptibly. "We're not doing that again. Ever. I will not risk losing…I won't risk it. I can live with the bond, I can't live without…I can't let you go through that again."

"We won't do it again," I promised, touching his cheek lightly, smiling hesitantly. "We'll find a way to control it. I can live with you, if you can live with me."


	16. Nail

**Nail **

"We have to tell them," she said quietly, picking up another log to add to their growing pile of wood for that night's campfire.

Michael huffed in exasperation, growing impatient with the circular argument they'd been having the past three days over whether to tell Max and Maria about their mental connection. It'd been two weeks since it snapped in place and they'd been hoping that it was a fluke, something that would fade over time.

Instead it'd grown to the point he was now feeling her emotions and could sense her presence even when she wasn't in the camp. It was like…alien radar. Shoving a hand through his disheveled tawny waves, he shook his head in negation.

"I say we don't until we absolutely have to," he grunted, sighing unhappily, all too aware of the maelstrom that would erupt once their secret was known. Especially since they had to failed to mention it right away to his royal highness. That in itself would be viewed an act of treason by the would-be king. "Unlike you, I'm not a glutton for punishment, Parker."

"Michael, we can't keep it a secret for much longer," Liz pointed out, exasperated by his refusal to see reason. "They're bound to find out sooner or later."

"Then I say later," he stated mulishly. "I like my peace."

"They're already watching us suspiciously," she argued, brow creased with frustration as she pinched the bridge of her nose and began to pace back and forth. Her head ached from the constant strain of pretending everything was peachy for Max's benefit when that was far from the case. "What if they think…?"

"Think what, Parker?" he grunted, wrestling with a log that was caught in some hedges, needing a way to work off his growing irritation before it sparked his powers.

"What if they think that…we…um….that we…you know…are doing something?" she asked weakly, a blush staining her cheeks as she shifted uncomfortably.

"Doing something?" he replied, looking back at her, a perplexed expression sliding across his face. Comprehension dawned when he noted the deep rose hue tingeing her cheeks and her lip firmly clenched between her teeth. "Why on Earth would they think that?"

"Well it's not gone unnoticed that we're always talking and do all our chores together these days," she growled in exasperation. "Especially when we rarely spent more than 10 minutes together prior to the connection."

"Please, they can't be that obtuse," he snickered.

"Why?" she asked, slightly hurt by his dismissal. "Is it so unbelievable?

"Yes!" he fairly shouted, pinching the bridge of his nose when she jerked back as if she'd been slapped at his proclamation. "I mean, anyone can see you follow Max around like a puppy dog. It's pretty damn sickening actually."

"I do not!" she cried hotly, crossing her arms and glaring at the tactless alien.

"Spare me the denial, Parker," Michael griped, growing increasingly agitated with where their latest argument was headed. "You might as well stamp Welcome on your forehead!"

"How dare you!" the outraged girl cried, jaw dropping as she stomped over to him, tipping her head back to glare into the tall man's eyes. He watched her with derisive amusement and snorting, walked around her, all too aware of the malevolent gaze burning into his back.

"Oh, what Max? Rob a convenience store? Hold a gun on the clerk so you can blithely skip off to find your space ship and I can take the full blame?" he snarked. "Anything for you, Max! You're my hero!"

Snagging the log he'd been trying to dislodge earlier, he yanked it from the hedges violently and tossed it on growing stack of wood, looking back at his companion in time to see her flinch.

Pressing his hand to his face, he sighed and tried to cool his irritation before he said something he regretted. True, he was irritated by her blind acceptance of Max's foibles, but it really wasn't any of his concern. Looking up, he had just opened his mouth to apologize when her next words left him dumbfounded.

"I did it out of love," she whispered softly, her back stiff.

"Love! You call that love?" he exclaimed, completely aghast that she'd even go there. Max might be blind, but he thought she had some common sense running around in her head. "That's not love, Liz! That's codependency! If he really loved you, he never would have put you in that situation! There wouldn't have been a baby in the first place!"

Michael paced the length clearing, anger coursing through his body, although why he was so annoyed by her words he didn't know. Looking back at Liz, he caught the stunned tears from his bitter tirade filling her eyes before she ducked her head.

"What? Truth hurt, Parker?" he asked snidely, staring at the brunette the Gods chained him to in a perverse fit of humor. "Hit the nail on the head? A little too close to home?"

"You're an ass," she said heatedly, a tear sliding over her cheek. "Maybe I give into Max too often. And yes, I blindly accept his faults at times. And maybe it seems like I follow him around like a puppy dog, but at least I allow myself to fall that deeply. At least I don't run like a scared little boy every time someone gets too close for comfort. And at least I make an effort not to take my frustration out on a friend when I don't understand what's happening."

He flinched as if struck, his turn to feel the stinging bite of hurtful words. Taking a shuddering breath, he hung his head and stared at his toes, unable to conjure a response to her accusations, knowing full well that he deserved them.

"What? Truth hurt, Guerin?" she mocked. "Hit the nail on the head?"

His head snapped up long enough to fix her with a fiery glare. Message received. He watched as she turned her back on him and walked away, his heart pinching at the subtle closing out. The last thing he wanted was to watch her hit autopilot again. Not when they had just started to know each other and he was beginning to appreciate her presence.

Besides, she was right. This whole argument did stem from his fear at her being too close for comfort and because he had no clue what was happening. But that wasn't her fault. She was just as imbued in this mess as he.

"Parker," he called softly, then getting impatient again when she didn't turn around and stalked after her, grabbing her arm. "Liz!"

Liz stopped walking but didn't turn around, still hurt from his hatefully flung words no matter how true they were. Those were painful truths she would only admit to herself because to voice them would mean she had been wrong about Max all along and she wasn't ready to face that particular truth yet.

Michael stared at her rigid back regretting his hastily spoken words. He knew she didn't need a reminder of how less than perfect her relationship was. She faced that every night before she went to bed. Instead he focused on the question that had started the argument in the first place.

"Liz, anyone who really knows you, would never believe that you'd have an affair," he stated quietly. "That's why it's unbelievable."

"He did before," she whispered softly, rubbing her arms to stave off the approaching night chill. "What's to stop him from believing the worst this time?"

"What?" Michael asked, momentarily perplexed. "You mean the Kyle thing?"

She nodded her head slowly, turning around to face him and fixed her gaze somewhere over his shoulder, hurt lingering in her eyes. Michael gently grasped her chin and forced her to meet his eyes.

"Max is an idiot," he softly replied. "Anyone with half a brain would have sensed a set up. I never believed that BS from the beginning."

She gave him a tentative smile and ducked her head, hiding behind her hair to keep him from seeing how ridiculously pleased his words left her. He crooked the side of his mouth knowing her ploy but didn't call her on it.

"Although I probably would have acted mad at first just to see the midget sweat," he snickered envisioning Kyle running down the street stark naked. "It would have been worth risking your wrath just to hear him scream like a little girl."

Liz snorted, rolling her eyes and desperately tried not to laugh at the image he conjured.

"Truce?" he asked softly.

"Truce," she agreed, nodding her head.

"Ok, then we better get back to camp before they really do think we went off for a quickie," he teased as he gathered up the logs.

"Michael!" she admonished, smacking him on the shoulder.

"You shouldn't have placed the idea in my head, Parker," the tall alien snorted as he headed off to camp. "It's way too tempting to tweak Max's buttons on that one. How many shades of red do you think I can get his ears to turn this time?"

"Oh God," Liz cried, her exasperated groan sending the perverse man into a fit of laughter. "I should have just kept my mouth shut."


	17. Lick

**Lick**

Michael hovered over her shoulder, absently brushing glossy chestnut locks back as they studied the map they had managed to wrest from Max's possession for once. Often, Max jealously guarded the map as if it were his only lifeline in the disaster that had become their existence.

Let's face it – what they had now couldn't be mistaken as an actual life.

Licking his lips distractedly, he turned to Liz to comment on her suggested route, when he caught the heated amber gaze of their fearless leader staring at them thoughtfully, a fierce frown pinching his face. Smirking amusedly, he remembered his and his companion's discussion last week and couldn't resist poking at the would-be king's insecurities.

Watching him out of the corner of his eye, he bent closer to the brunette, caging her in between his arms as he leaned onto the table and nearly fell over laughing as the other man huffed, a telltale red burning the tips of his ears. Dipping his lips close to her ear, he turned back to the map and finally responded to her question.

"We could head this way, stop over in New Orleans," he replied in a warm, low voice, knowing Max caught the husky tone but not his words when the red deepened another shade. Letting dancing caramel eyes drift over her lazily, he cocked a brow when he caught a slight shudder coursing through her body as his breath whispered over her ear and filed it away for later inspection since she had unwittingly played right into his game.

"That might be nice," she murmured softly, sitting up slightly, inadvertently pressing her back into his chest, jolting in surprise as she noticed his proximity, sending Max's ears up another fiery notch. Schooling her face in a blank façade, she turned around and looked at him questioningly as he rarely let anyone into his personal space, especially her.

He couldn't help the slight hitch in his breath to find her lips inches from his. He may not have thought about her much in the past two years but he was only human – well half human – and their argument had stirred up feelings he had buried long ago for his own sanity. He stared at her lips; startled at what he was feeling when he heard her voice in his head, snapping him out of his daze.

"_You want to move back a bit_?"

"_Nope_," he smirked, not bothering to elaborate on why as she couldn't act to save her life when it came to Max and he knew she'd halt his mischief to spare herself another night of whining. Not that he blamed her. He wouldn't want to listen to Max gripe all night either.

"_No_?" she asked, brow furrowing with confusion as she unwittingly continued to stare into his eyes, licking her lips unconsciously, their faces still pressed together intimately. "_Why not_?"

"_Having too much fun at the king's expense_," he laughed, drawing a finger over her shoulder firm enough to seem a friendly gesture, yet soft enough to send another shiver over her spine. Curiouser and curiouser. "_By the way, I counted fifty-three_."

"_Fifty-three?_" she queried, still staring at him, now completely confused and completely oblivious to their techno-color observer. If he continued on the way he was going, he'd run out of shades of red and cross over into the purple realm. "_What are you babbling about_?"

"_Shades of red_," he smirked, flicking shining bourbon eyes over her shoulder subtly. "_You might want to stop staring at me before the king snaps_."

"_Shades of…oh, damn it, Michael!_" she cursed, whipping her head around and seeing Max for the first time. Didn't say much for him. Turning back to him, she glared at him softly, her brow pinched with annoyance. "_Now, I'm going to have to listen to him whine all night. Thanks a lot_."

"_No problem, Parker, always happy to be of service_," he snorted, schooling his face into a blank mask despite the traces of humor lurking in his eyes. Looking back over at his pseudo brother, he started to pull away, but not before he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "_Sucks to be you_."

"_Really?_" she inquired, cocking her brow at him mockingly, a calculating gleam shining in dark chocolate orbs. Crooking her finger, she smirked when he dipped his head back down to her, shuddering himself when she leaned in and whispered softly. "So, the fact that this is going to cause waves doesn't bother you in the least?"

"Nope," he whispered back, swallowing thickly when her breath whispered against his skin and just barely kept his body from reacting to the tickling caress.

"_Not even a little?_" she asked, returning to their mental patter as she looked over his shoulder subtly, her eyes settling on the blond that had just returned from grocery shopping.

"_Nope,_" he said again, his turn to wonder if he was missing something vital and not understanding what she was getting at. It's not like he has to share a tent with his royal highness.

"_That's good to hear since you're in for hurricane force winds tonight_," she smirked, meeting his confused brandy eyes with amusement, then glancing over his shoulder pointedly.

"_What?_" he asked, perplexed as he casually looked over his shoulder into a glacial green gaze and cringed, the fine hairs on his neck rising as Maria stood by their tent tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed over her chest. "_Fuck!_"

"_Yup! At least I'll only get a cold shoulder, you on the other hand are doomed_," the brunette snorted, turning back to the map with a grin and giggled under her breath as her companion continued to curse softly in his head. "_Sucks to be you, Guerin."_


	18. Yarn

**Yarn**

Tapping her finger against her lips, Liz cocked her head to the side and studied the skeins of yarn in quiet contemplation, trying to decide which shade of pink would best suit her friend. Isabel's birthday was coming up in a month and she was planning to make her a sweater since funds were always short and they couldn't afford the luxury of new clothes.

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled when she saw Michael was still looking over the art supplies covetously despite his initial reluctance to come with her. They had come into town on their weekly grocery run when she saw the craft store and he let her drag him in, complaining the whole way.

Looking him over, she realized Isabel wasn't the only one that would benefit from a new sweater. As touched as she is that he continues to wear the sweater she made for him last Christmas, the poor thing was definitely showing signs of wear.

Michael looked up, feeling her dark chocolate eyes on him and tearing himself away from the art supplies he could never afford, he walked over, following her as she moved around the corner to study more yarn.

"What's up, Parker?" he asked as he caught up with her.

"What?" she murmured absently, selecting a skein of azure yarn and holding it up to him in contemplation before shaking her head and setting it back down. Grabbing another in forest green, she cocked her head and shrugged her shoulders, setting that one down too.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he asked cautiously as he cocked a brow.

"Hmmm?" she asked, still distracted as she studied the colors before her. "Oh, I noticed that you need a new sweater and I'm trying to decide on a color."

"Black works," he replied, looking down at the sweater. True, it had seen better days, but it had been the first time someone had put so much effort into a gift for him and he cherishes it for that reason.

"Yeah, but you need some more color in your life," she smirked.

"Trust me, Parker, with Maria, I have all the color I can handle," he snorted.

She laughed and reached up, grabbing several rolls of cotton candy pink yarn and placed them in her basket, finally deciding which shade she liked best for Isabel. She was about to reach for the black, when Michael cleared his throat and drew her gaze to him.

"Uh, Liz, I don't really think I'm a pink man," he stuttered, a slightly panicked expression gracing his face as he stared at her basket in trepidation. Cherished or not, there was no way in hell he was going to wear anything pink no matter how cute she was.

"They're not for you, you dolt," she snickered, shaking her head and doubling over in laughter at his relieved sigh. Reaching up, she grabbed several skeins of black yarn as well. "They're for Isabel's birthday present. Although…"

Looking up at him, Liz fingered the pink yarn thoughtfully and eyes sparkling with mischief, walked over. Michael watched her approach warily, breath catching as she laid a hand on his chest and stood up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "I think you look great in pink."

Patting him on the chest, she looked at his sweater and snickered as she turned, heading for the register.

Perplexed, Michael looked down at his sweater and let out a grunt of outrage when he noted that she had changed it to the same cotton candy pink as the yarn in her basket with her powers. Looking around to make sure no one saw anything, he quickly changed back to its previous black as he glared at the laughing brunette and growled. "You're dead, Parker!"


	19. Carrion, Liquid

**Carrion**

She's dying a little every day. He doesn't see it. Just as when Alex died, she's built an impenetrable wall around herself, stronger than ever.

I do. I know something about walls after all, and even if I didn't, I'd still know.

I can't help but witness the demise that comes with every premonition, every flash because of our bond. It's killing me too. Not the visions themselves, but the way they strip her soul, dull that shining luster I had always admired, envied.

Does he even realize what he's done to her?

Wait, of course not, the boy king is oblivious to anything that doesn't fit according to his whim. Instead he lies in wait, like a vulture over carrion, for her next vision so he actually has some usefulness and can plan our escape.

She's dying and I can't take it anymore. I have to save her. I just don't know how yet.

* * *

**Liquid**

Sitting in the kitchen window seat, she sipped a cup of rich, dark cocoa as she stared out at the driving rain, wincing as the steaming liquid singed the tip of her tongue and sighed, shivering slightly when a cool winter draft slid along her spine. It was another cold, lonely night, her companions scattered to the four winds, either working or enjoying a rare moment of respite from this endless chase across the country.

Huddling in her quilt, she wishes she had taken the girls up on their invitation and joined their girls only night of pampering and partying since all the men were working. She had bowed out, looking forward to an evening of silence and the chance to spill out the dark, muddled thoughts whispering tauntingly through head in the journal she's avoided for months, only to find the well dry.

Despite once being refuge to her most secret thoughts, she has had a difficult time putting them into words over the past few months. Or maybe she just doesn't want to share what are sure to be seen as treasonous feelings. If Max were to ever glimpse the dark, silent void where her love for him once resided, their castle of broken promises and empty words would crumble, like sand monuments under the constant wash of waves.

Or maybe she didn't want to face the hopeful dreams of a girl that died years ago, can't bear the reminder, the slivers of pain that stab at her heart like splintered glass, cementing the crushing ache of hopelessness that she sees entrenched in her once clear eyes.

She shivered again as the wind picked up, whipping the trees standing watch outside their temporary shelter into a frenzy as it howled mournfully through leaves, echoing the silent cry of her heavy heart. She hadn't expected to feel the cold, dark night press around her so oppressively, leaving her screaming for something, anything to assuage the icy void that envelopes what's left of her tattered soul.

Pressing her forehead to the chilled, fogged glass, she watches rivulets of water slide over it, much like tears cascading from the heavens, tears she dares not release herself for the fear that once she starts, they'll never end and she envies the night sky its release. Clenching her eyes shut to quell the prickling behind them, her breath hitches and she bleakly wonders if she'll ever know what is to feel alive once more.

A gust of cold, damp air billowed through the room, shaking her from her dark thoughts and she tensed as one of her wayward roommates entered the kitchen door. Straightening up, she pasted a fake smile on her face and turned to meet curiously blank dark whiskey eyes as he stepped out of the night, tawny waves clinging damply to his cheeks and forehead.

"You're home early," she murmured, tossing him that bright smile in the hopes of keeping any questions over her mood at bay.

"Slow night. We closed early," he replied stoically, noting the smile, all too aware of the brittle edges she was desperately trying to conceal. It might have fooled him once as he wouldn't have looked at her twice as he strode past to the sanctuary of his room, but that was before he _knew_ her. "Besides, it was kind of hard to concentrate with your emotions raining all over me."

He stared down at her, cocking his brow in challenge as he watched the smile falter, daring her to deny what they both knew to be truth. He smirked as she dipped her head, seemingly fascinated with the dark liquid swirling in her cup before she turned to stare out the window, unwilling to either confirm or deny his words.

"Not going to deny it?" he queried softly, flicking a brooding gaze over her back, walking to stand behind her as she studiously avoided meeting his eyes. He had been jumpy all night feeling the dark emotions radiating through their bond. It had been palpable enough that his boss sent him home, sensing that his mind was far from work.

"Why bother?" she shrugged, keeping her eyes trained unseeingly out at the rainy night, shuddering softly as another draft whispered over her neck. Daring a glance at him, she was caught by his moody depths and cursed at not having a better handle on her control. This was the last thing she needed tonight. "After all, you have a front row seat to my every thought and feeling. It's pointless."

"Never stopped you before," he muttered, pursing his lips as she shrugged once again, quickly growing annoyed with her cavalier attitude when he knew the maelstrom that was raging just under the surface. Clenching his fists, he was determined to get a reaction out of her if it killed him.

"Guess I'm just too tired to fight you," she replied wearily, setting her cup down on the window sill and pressing her fingers to her temples to ward off the throbbing that threatened behind her eyes. Damn him, why wouldn't he just go away and leave her in peace. "Just leave me alone, Michael. I not in the mood to deal with you tonight."

"Not gonna happen, Parker," he retorted softly, pushing at her through their bond, feeling her irritation with him building, but anything was better than the absolute devastation that was pouring through earlier. "So, suck it up and deal."

"Back off, Michael," she snapped, whipping her head around to glare at the man with aggravation, her eyes crackling with suppressed fire, lips thinned mutinously. She clenched her hands to keep the fine tremors running through her body from showing. "I don't know what crawled up your ass, but I said I'm in no mood to cater to your asshole ways tonight."

"And I told you to deal," he spat, towering over her menacingly, his own caramel eyes smoldering, challenging her to either put up or shut up. His breath came in short, ragged pants as he remembered the dark thoughts she hadn't given name to circling around her head. Damned if he was going to allow that to happen.

"Ugh! What the hell is your problem?" she hissed, jumping from her perch to stand toe-to-toe with him, her eyes flashing angrily, meeting his equally fiery gaze unflinchingly. "Are you hard of hearing? I told you to back off!"

"And I said, that's not going to happen," he growled, dipping his head down as he grabbed her upper arms and raised her to her tiptoes, pressing his nose to hers, watching as her tongue flitted over her lips nervously, her aggravated breath fanning his face. "So get over it!"

"Arrgh! God, you piss me off!" she screamed, yanking at her arms, trying to pull away and put distance between the two of them before she did something she regretted. But he was having none of it, holding her firmly in his grip while he made his next point.

"Good! Be mad at me! Scream! Rant! Rage! Call me an asshole if you want!" he yelled back at her, happy to take the abuse if meant keeping her safe for one more night. Crowding her, he watched her glittering eyes steadily as he continued with steely determination. "I'd rather have you go to bed fuming than to wake up in the morning and find your cold, lifeless body lying in a pool of blood, wrists slashed because you couldn't take it anymore!"

"W-what?" she whispered, blanching as her body went limp under his hands, shaking like the leaves just outside their window, lips parted in astonishment and softly trembling. Her eyes darted around the room nervously as he set her back on her feet, mouth moving soundlessly, her breath stuttering, body swaying dizzily. "I…I w-wasn't…."

"Spare me the denial, Parker!" he rasped, disbelief coloring his tone and continued to watch her as the reality of her unspoken thoughts crashed down around her, pointing to his head. "Front row seat to your every thought and feeling, remember?"

Reeling, she staggered back and sat down on the window seat heavily, resting her head in her hands, her breath coming in raspy pants and shuddered in quiet apprehension, fear chilling her blood as she realized the validity of his words. Thoughts she hadn't even recognized until that very moment.

Kneeling before her, he took her hands in his, pulling them away from her face and transferring them into one hand, reached up to grasp her chin softly, raising her eyes to his, inhaling sharply at the sheen of tears glossing her eyes. His features softened at the pained confusion dancing in that wet gaze, her soul laid bare before him and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her as she sobbed quietly.

"I…I d-didn't mean," she choked between sobs, burrowing her face into his chest as she clutched onto him as if he were her lifeline, the only person that stood between her and the dark. And he was. "I d-didn't r-realize…."

"I know," he murmured, his heart pounding as he stroked soft molasses strands back from her face, warm vanilla teasing his nose as she shifted in his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed her lightly before pulling back to look down into her face. "Promise me something."

She met his stoic gaze and nodded quietly, waiting for him to continue, tears still slipping over her cheeks silently as she took a shuddering breath. He nodded in acknowledgment, looking away for a moment to gather his thoughts and then flicked his eyes back to hers.

"Promise me you'll talk to me before it gets this bad again," he whispered, his voice hitching slightly as he tried to keep his own emotions in check. "No matter what time of day or night, no matter the place."

"Okay," she whispered back as she laid her head against his chest once more. Sighing softly, she began to relax against him, the warm circle of his arms melting the icy cold that surrounded her earlier.

"Promise," he demanded softly, not about to let her off with a simple okay. Not after the hell she put him through this evening.

"I promise," she said, tipping her face to meet his concerned bourbon gaze seriously, sending him her first genuine smile of the evening, shaky as it was.

"Okay," he replied, nodding his head in acceptance as he pulled the two of them up, sitting on the bench and grabbed her quilt before pulling her between his legs, wrapping them up in it as she settled against his chest. Resting his head on the top of her head, he sighed as they stared out the window, watching the softening rain as the storm passed – at least for tonight.


	20. Peak

**Peak**

"Are you sure you didn't get a vision about this?" Max asked for the dozenth time since we arrived to our latest hiding place deep in the Rocky Mountain peaks. He'd been hounding Liz ever since our near capture by the FBI two days ago and it was quickly wearing on my nerves.

"No, Max," she admitted quietly, sighing wearily as long ebony tresses slid over her slumped shoulders, masking the misery etched on her face.

"But you're usually so on top of this, Liz, I don't understand how you didn't get a vision," Max spluttered, pacing back and forth as I feel her crawl deeper into herself, shielding herself from the pain and defeat of failure. Not that I needed the bond to tell me that.

"Maybe you got one and just didn't understand…" Max continued patiently as if he were speaking to a willful five-year-old child opposed to an adult woman who has a complete grasp over her powers. I swear, he gets more pompous and condescending every day.

"Jesus, Maxwell!" I finally cut in with irritation, drowning in the waves of self-defeat and worthlessness coming off of Liz. If he didn't stop his tirade, I was going to kill him myself. "She said she didn't get a premonition! Stop treating her like a trained monkey and drop it!"

Max whipped his head up, annoyed frustration creasing his face. "I'm just trying to understand where things went wrong, Michael."

"There is nothing to understand!" I growled, my protective instincts going into overdrive as I watch this vibrant woman turn into a pale shadow of her former self. "She didn't get one! End of story! Do us all a favor and stop belaboring a moot point!"

"But…" Max stuttered, unable to grasp why one of the tools in his arsenal had failed. His arrogance never ceases to amaze me.

"But nothing!" I bellowed, pinching the bridge of my nose, trying to rein in my rapidly slipping patience. Lifting my head and fixing him with a pointed glare, I gestured to the woman cowering near the lake, her body curling into herself as if she was trying to disappear from sight. "Did you even notice how this has affected her? She's beating herself up enough over it; she doesn't need you to add to it!"

Snapping his head to Liz, he shook his head imperceptibly in denial, always oblivious to his actions. "I didn't mean…."

"Yeah, we know, Max. You never mean it and yet some how it always happens. Screw this!" I griped. Striding over to Liz determinedly, I lean down, clasping her hand in mine, giving a gentle tug and pull her to her feet, tucking her firmly into my side. "Come on, Parker, we're going for a walk."

Breathing a sigh of relief when she didn't resist, I realized she must have been hurting more than she let on and was blocking me. It's not going to work

Max's disapproving eyes bore a hole into my back as I lead her from the site. Like I care. I had reached my peak and if Maxwell wasn't careful, he'd be short two significant members of his little army because I'll be damned if I watch her wither away under his negligent care.


	21. December

**December**

We walk cloaked in silence as I watch the woman at my side from the corner of my eye, tempted to open our link and figure out what has her gnawing through her bottom lip. But how could I go against the boundaries I myself set at the outset of this bond; boundaries that include keeping uninvited treks through each other's psyche to a minimum.

Pushing her into the grove of trees before us, we approach an overhang jutting over a deep valley. I watch as her face relaxes in quiet appreciation at the beauty surrounding us, dark eyes traveling over the rugged, snow-capped peaks dotted with evergreens in the distance. Her breath rushed out softly, the vapor a soft plume as it froze in the cold, December air.

"This is where you went yesterday," she commented rhetorically, voice filled with hushed awe, a small shiver coursing over her body when a cool breeze sent her chestnut hair dancing. She looked up at me, the faintest hint of a smile touching her lips.

"Yeah," I replied with a slight shrug of my shoulders, pushing a small strand of hair behind her ear before I could stop myself. Her eyes brightened a touch at the soft gesture and smile widening as she took my hand, making me glad I had given into the impulse.

"It's beautiful, Michael," she whispered. "Thank you."

"Come here," I whispered huskily, throat constricting as I tried to shrug off her gratitude and lead her to a bed of pine needles to sit down, pulling her between my legs. "Let me heal your headache."

"Oh…uh, no, it's okay," she protested softly trying to move away. "It doesn't hurt that much."

"Liar," I accused without heat, yanking her back against me. "Now stop being a martyr and let me take care of it."

"But, Michael, it could make the bond take a deeper hold…" she trailed off, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Don't care," I grunted, already placing my hands to her temples, massaging as I sent soothing warmth through my fingers. She sighed with soft contentment, tension melting from her shoulders as she rested her head against my shoulder, pressing her face into my neck as the healing took hold.

My breath hitched as her breath whispered against my jaw and sliding my eyes shut, I suppressed a groan, resting my chin on her head. It was getting harder every day to deny how she affected me. Opening my eyes, I sighed with soft resignation and wrapped my arms around her waist.

The trees creaked through the stillness as the wind picked up, the light dimming as dove gray clouds rolled in, casting an eerie glow over the scene before us. Shivering, I snuggled closer to her as the first lazy snowflakes began to drift around us.

"Michael, look." Hushed wonder encased her words as a delighted smile broke across her face and she tipped her head back, dancing eyes meeting mine. "It's snowing."

I smiled down at her, happy to see that twinkle that had been missing all too often lately. She settled against me, smiling softly and I tightened my arms around her as we continued to watch the snow falling around us.

"I wish we could stay this way forever," she whispered wistfully. "I always feel so safe and at peace with you."

I swallowed hard, breath caught in my throat at her admission and silently agreed, realizing I could hold her in my arms forever if things were different.


	22. Fantasy

**Fantasy**

He sat quietly on the grass, reveling in the feel of the sun beating across his skin, wrapping its heat around him like a down comforter. Lying back, he shaded his eyes from the sun's glare and can't remember the last time he let his guard down enough to relax and just enjoy something so simple. Life on the run has been hell.

But luckily, here in the remote fields of – well he has no idea where they are at the moment – they finally had a little down time. When Liz saw this place, she smiled for the first time in weeks having seen it in a dream or vision and declared it would be a safe haven for a little while. We desperately needed it.

Looking over at his friend (that was still weird to him), he saw a soft dreamy smile touch her lips as she gazed out over the meadow and smiled in response to see her indolent posture. He'd been worried about how closed off she'd become lately. Even the Max channel had been quiet for the past month.

A year had passed since the bond formed and he and Liz were finally starting to get some control over it, but being constantly on the run meant that they couldn't focus on containing it as much as they'd like. Unwanted tidbits still had a way of leaking through and flitting through each other's mind. And he couldn't help but notice that she thought of Max less and less.

Shaking his worries off, he closed his eyes; sighing as he emptied his mind of everything, content to float as the warm current circulated around him. The sun beat over his closed eyelids, casting a red haze as he sank deeper into his lethargy and he hovered on the edge of slumber as a scene flickered to life across his vision.

_Soft, wet lips pressed to his as the tip of a warm, pink tongue slid over his lips teasingly before darting between them, languidly stroking the folds of his mouth in an ancient erotic dance. Groaning against her lips, he crushed her against him, wrapping her right leg over his hip and pressed her against the wall, rocking against the damp heat of her core._

_Grabbing her other leg, he lifted her up easily; hitching it to his other hip, pressing between her thighs, her arms wrapping around his neck to tease the waves kissing the nape as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth to nibble on it softly. She gasped against his lips, dragging air into her starving lungs and flexed her hips against him, making his own breath hitch as electricity shot through his body at the friction._

_Smiling against his lips, she rubbed against him again, making him growl low in his throat, tearing his lips away to trail rough kisses against her neck, biting the tender flesh over her pulse, marking her before sucking on the sweet, salty skin above it. _

_She threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged on it, pulling his head back up to hers and captured his mouth once more, their tongues dueling for dominance. He pulled back and looked down into her flushed face, staring into Liz's smoky ebony eyes._

_**Wait, Liz...?**_

_Gazing at him through hooded eyes, she lowered her head to his neck, lightly licking the skin up to his earlobe, eliciting a small shiver of want along his body as she pulled the soft skin into her mouth, nibbling lightly. He hissed, shoving his hands into her long silky strands, as her lips nibbled down the line of his jaw._

_**Oh God...not his fantasy...it's hers! She was fantasizing about Max again and he was being dragged along for the joy ride. Mentally groaning as his own body tightened, desire shot through his body as phantom lips traced tantilizingly, irresistibly over his neck. Someone shoot him now.**_

_Pulling her away from his neck, he crushed his lips to hers, plunging his tongue into the sweet, damp cavern of her mouth. Sucking her tongue into his mouth, he bit down on it before massaging the sting away. She dragged her hands through dark blond locks, her moan swallowed down his throat._

_**Max isn't blond. What…!**_

_His hand crept up under her shirt, sliding against smooth, silky skin to cup her breast, palming the soft, moldable flesh and kneaded it gently, dragging the tips of his fingers across her nipple, feeling it pebble under his fingers in response. Tipping her head back, she arched against him, demanding more pressure as a breathy moan slipped from her parted lips._

_**Oh God, he has to stop this now before…god. His body hummed with need, his hands tingling with warmth as if her skin was really beneath them.**_

"Parker!" he choked, jumping up as if scalded. The images of their shared reverie shattering around him as she startled and snapped her head to him, her cheeks flushed. Was that flush from the sun or her heated thoughts? Is that how she looks when…oh, god, he shouldn't be thinking that.

"Michael?" she looked at him hesitantly, watching as he shoved his hands through his hair, breath ragged, trying to quell the images of her laid before him in passion and god, her taste still lingering on his tongue.

"I'm going for a walk," he said breathlessly, needing to get away before he acted on the fire coursing through his blood and grabbed to her to see if she really tasted like spearmint and vanilla. "Tell the others I went to the lake."

He heard a faint affirmative whisper as he strode away, trying to forget how beautiful she looked flushed with passion and how her skin felt under his hands. Trying not to wonder why the man in her fantasy was not Max, but somehow reminded him of himself.


	23. Alternate

**Alternate**

My head hanging in defeat, I wearily cling to Liz's hand, her dispassionate countenance belying the rapid thrumming of her heart as we watch black vans swarm us on all sides. Maria cries hysterically in the background, clinging to Kyle and Isabel while Ava and Max stand stoically, shoulders tense, chins tipped defiantly as agents pile out, taking cover behind their vans.

We're trapped and too tired, ragged, defeated to put up another fight. After two years of evasion, it comes down to this, our final showdown on the outskirts of Austin, Texas. Max steps into the circle's center, facing the agents with his shoulders squared, me beside him as we shove Liz and Ava behind us, ready to stare death in its face.

There was no way we could survive this attack and with the wear of the road and endless running staining our souls, we didn't care any longer.

A man steps to the fore, obviously the head of the team, his piercing blue eyes watching us with quiet apprehension, before striding purposefully forward. Time came to a standstill as we faced each other, neither wanting to make the first move, at an impasse.

Suspicion and apprehension wars in our hearts as he held out his hand in a gesture of friendship, a white flag rising above their trenches. Was it another ploy to yank us into their web? Then he said something we never expected to hear.

Khivar has contacted Earth's governments and gave them an ultimatum – either turn us over to him and submit to his rule or face extinction when he brings our war to humanity. Apparently they didn't care for that ultimatum, so they were willing to contact and work with us as an alternative. We were the lesser of the evils.

A bitter laugh passed my lips before I could help it, the irony striking me – for years they'd been trying to eliminate us and now we're the only ones standing between them and their extinction. Karma bites you on the ass when you least expect it.


	24. Covet

**Covet**

"You've been holding out on me, sweets."

Liz looked up as Rath plopped down in front of her at the Crashdown counter where she was going over her supply order before calling it in. Nibbling on her pencil, she tucked her hair behind her ear and looked back down, confusion marring her face as she continued to peruse the paperwork in front of her.

"How am I holding out on you?" she asked distractedly, chin propped in her hand as she mentally calculated how many bottles of ketchup they'd need to get through the next three weeks and waited for his response. "Two cases should be enough for a while," she muttered under her breath as she marked the paper.

Huffing with annoyance, Rath reached over and tugged on a strand of her hair, trying to draw her attention back to him. Batting his hand away, she made another mark on her paperwork, ignoring the alien's irritated grumble. He tugged on her hair again, making her roll her eyes at his impatience.

Sighing, her pencil clattered to the counter and she focused her attention on Michael's persistent dupe knowing that he would hound her until she gave in and listened anyway. Crossing her arms, she looked at him expectantly, hoping he'd hurry it up so she could get this order in before the distributor closed.

"Well?" she prompted impatiently, gesturing with her hand as the perverse man smirked at her knowingly. Between spending all day training with Michael and their meeting with the Roswell contingent of the war preparation effort, she was beat and not in the mood to deal with perverse aliens.

"The kiss, dollface," he snickered, licking his lips suggestively, brow quirking as he took in her stumped expression.

"What kiss?" she queried, exasperated by his cryptic comment.

"Oh come now, babe, it couldn't have been that forgettable. I felt your response before your sensibilities kicked in and told you it was wrong," he snorted. "You. Me. In school near your locker, my tongue down your throat? Ring any bells yet sweetness?"

"Oh, that," she snorted, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. God, she hadn't thought about that in years. "That was what, four, five years ago? Forgive me if I didn't dwell on your one attempt to molest me, Rath. I've kinda had other things on my mind over the years. You know, like Earth's survival?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he smirked, eyes dancing devilishly as he wagged his tongue suggestively as he did the day. "You want me. Don't deny it."

She laughed, eyes glimmering with amusement and shook her head at his comment, picking up her pencil once again. But instead of dismissing him and going back to her order, she fixed him with a curious glance. "Did Maria tell you about that?"

"Nah, sweets. I saw it in a flash when I had you pinned during our sparring session today," he grinned, wagging his eyebrows at her, licking his lips slowly as his gaze drifted over her suggestively. "Hmmmm…interesting that you were thinking of that kiss when you were under me. You not telling me something?"

"In your dreams." Liz snorted derisively, eyes twinkling.

"Every night, dollface, every night," he smirked playfully, as a clatter from the kitchen grabbed his attention. Sliding his eyes over to the order window, he caught his dupe watching them; his forehead creased thoughtfully and decided to have a little fun at his expense since he knew how much duke wanted the little brunette for his own.

Glancing back to the pretty girl in front of him, Rath reached over and drew a lazy finger over her cheek teasingly, grinning unabashedly when he saw Michael tense and frown out of the corner of his eyes as he flirted with Liz. It was far too easy to poke at his dupe. He's amazed she hasn't picked up on his feelings yet. Well maybe this will give the duke some incentive to end the dance before the two drove them all nuts.

"So what do you say babe, want to reacquaint me with the lay of the land?" he whispered softly, lips curving with mischief as he traced his finger to the corner of her mouth, lightly brushing her lips before pulling his hand away and dropped it to the counter to brace his weight for what he was about to do next.

Missing his mischievous glance at Michael, Liz giggled at his antics and rolled her eyes again, leaning towards him to comment just he leaned in towards her under the pretense of stealing a kiss. His lips brushed against hers gently, in a very different kiss from their first. She pulled back slightly, gasping softly as she licked her lips and stunned eyes flew to his.

Hovering over her parted lips, Rath's breath hitched as he stared into those deep ebony eyes and decided that if Michael was going to slaughter him anyway, he might as well make it worth while. Closing the distance between them, he was about to kiss her again, when the sound of bottles exploding in the kitchen made him smirk.

Liz jerked away, astonished eyes flying to the order window as shattered glass tinkled to the floor and squirmed at the fulminating glare Michael fixed on his twin. Brow furrowing, she shifted on her stool, bringing Michael's hard gaze to her and felt a small flash of hurt from him before he squelched it. Wondering what that was about, she watched as he threw his spatula on the grill and tore his apron off.

"I'm taking a break," he bit out to Jose as he stalked off, not bothering to wait for an answer from the man as he stormed into the employee lounge.

Chewing on her lip thoughtfully, Liz moved to follow him to find out what was wrong, forgetting about Rath until he placed a restraining hand on her arm. Looking at him questioningly, her brow creased with confusion as he shook his head at her imperceptibly.

"Give Duke a couple of minutes before you talk to him, sweets," he said softly. "He needs to work a little of his anger out before he sees you."

"What? Why?" she murmured, perplexed at Michael's display of temper. He hadn't lost control of his powers like that in a couple years. His control, had improved by leaps and bounds when they bonded. This was unlike him. "I wonder what brought that on?"

"You," Rath commented with a nonchalant shrug, determined to enlighten the girl and put his dupe and the rest of the group out of their misery.

"Me?" she cried. "But what did I do?"

"Well, to be honest, it was me and you that set Duke off," he sighed, running a hand over his hair, wondering why he was putting himself in the middle of this sticky situation. But they had been denying their feelings for far too long. He fixed her with a patient look "Specifically, me kissing you."

"But, I don't understand. I mean, I know he doesn't fully trust you," she said haltingly, her face pinched. "But why get upset over a kiss that meant nothing?"

"Ouch, thanks for busting my ego, dollface," Rath grumbled, rubbing he hand across the back of his neck. "It has nothing to do with trusting me or not trusting me and everything to do with him wanting _you_ next to _him_ in his bed every night."

She gasped, startled eyes flying back to the dupe as her mouth gaped in astonishment. She shook her head in sheer incredulity, denial etched firmly across her face. "You're wrong. There is no way that Michael is…that Michael wants me…that…no way."

"Well, then you explain it to me babes," he smirked, cocking his brow. "Why is it, that the Duke flew out of here like a wounded bear when we kissed?"

"You kissed me," she said in exasperation, frowning when he rolled his eyes at her and shrugged, implying she was missing the point of his comment. "I'm sure there is a perfectly logical explanation for it that has nothing to do with that kiss."

"Geez, you're in even more denial than he is," he snorted, shaking his head. "No wonder Duke is going crazy."

Rath leaned forward, grasping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, "The man wants you. And I don't mean just in the let's get naked and fuck all night way, although that's part of it. I mean he wants you in the white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a dog way."

Liz moved her mouth soundlessly, trying to get words out but failing miserably as she was beyond speech. Staring at the door to the back room, she sat in silence as Rath's words washed over her, her heart fluttering. "You're wrong on that," she said quietly. "Michael doesn't believe in marriage."

"Why do you think that? Because he wouldn't marry, Maria? Because he said it was too _dangerous_?" he asked curiously, smiling knowingly at the silent confirmation written on her face. "Baby girl, nothing and no one will stop a man when he really wants some thing, or in this case some_one_, no matter how implausible or dangerous. And I promise you, that man in there hears wedding bells where you're concerned."


	25. Confusion

**AN:** Posting a second to make up for the gap in posting.

* * *

**Confusion**

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, stalking after the petite brunette as she hedged past him without a word, her cheeks flushed with discomfit.

"What?" she murmured absently, biting her lip as she pressed chilled fingers to her cheeks to cool the fire burning beneath her skin.

"That!" he cried, gesturing to his smirking twin who was looking far too smug after trying to steal a kiss. Glowering at his dupe, he grit his teeth and swung his attention back to the woman who had been haunting his thoughts far too often lately.

"Can you be a little more specific, Michael?" she asked, annoyance shading her voice, the pink slowly draining from her still hot cheeks. Smoothing back the fly away strands teasing her face, she stared at the open door blankly, mind whirling over the implications of the conversation she'd had. Could he be right?

"The kiss?" he growled as he crossed his arms, heart sinking as he watched her continued distraction.

"Kiss?" Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her eyes as she ripped them away from the door and met his annoyed bourbon-colored eyes. Clarity dawned in hers and she shrugged dismissively, still floored by Rath's comments. "Oh. That. Ummm…it was nothing."

"It didn't look like nothing from where I was standing, Parker!" Michael griped, jealousy tearing at his gut as he tried to tamp down the power building in his body. Scowling at his faux brother's obvious amusement, his heart pinched at her indifference towards Rath's actions.

Shaking her head to clear it, Liz focused on the scowling man in front of her, rubbing her temples as she wonders if Rath was right in his assessment of Michael's feelings. "It was just Rath…being Rath. He was teasing. Why does it matter, Michael?" she queried distractedly.

"Why does it matter?" he grit out, frustration lacing his voice. Surely she couldn't be that blind, could she? Stalking over to her, he yanked her to him, fist tangling in silky molasses strands as his lips crashed against hers, moving against them urgently as he pressed her into the wall behind them.

A surprised gasp bubbled over her lips, which he used to his advantage and deepened the kiss, snaking his tongue into her mouth, exploring the sweet heat feverishly. Her eyes slid shut as she got lost in the caress and fitting her body to his, slid her hands into sandy waves, her breathy moan lost against his scorching lips.

He cupped the back of her head, crushing her to him harder, pouring months of frustrated desire into a devouring kiss that was all teeth, tongues, fire, and blinding passion. Ripping his mouth from hers, molten caramel stared down into hazy coffee orbs, noses pressed together as both dragged air back into their starving lungs.

"Why does it matter?" he panted, setting her away from him, dragging his hands through his hair in agitation. "Think about it, Parker."

Michael backed away and stormed out of the diner, leaving a gaping, dazed Liz in his wake. She licked her lips; unconsciously seeking the last rich, decadent dark chocolate and spice taste of him. Letting out a shaky breath, she stared after the tall alien, a perplexed sigh passing over her still tingling lips. "Well."

Turning to her right, she saw Rath shaking his head in resigned amusement and snickering. "Told ya sweets! Duke's hot for you."


	26. Discovery

**AN:** Sorry...I had to delete the last two chapters because I realized I hadn't put these up. My apologies!

* * *

**Discovery**

Her lips are soft beneath mine, damp breaths mingling as I sink deeper into her mouth, lightly stroking my tongue against her bottom lip. She sighs and lips part allowing me to deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue languorously against hers.

She tastes of vanilla and strawberry, cinnamon and spice, of whispered promises, new discoveries and potential dreams, of everything forbidden; yet everything I've ever wanted. She tastes of…salvation.

God, she's so sweet and I can happily live a thousand lives and die a thousand deaths as long as it's in her arms.

How could I have not seen this before?

~...~

**Deny**

This can't be happening. She told herself she wouldn't go here again. Not with one of them. Not with him. This complicates everything.

"You can't deny it," he whispers against her lips, lightly brushing his against hers. Their softness surprises her.

"We can't," she whispers back, heart racing as he trails butterfly kisses along her jaw.

"Yes, we can," he affirms, running fingers through her chocolate strands, wrapping them around his fist. Trailing the other hand along the small of her back, he presses her against him.

Eyes fluttering shut, her breath hitches when he continues his assault on her neck. Lips parting, she flicks her tongue over them, nervously gulping.

"It's not right…" she stutters, gripping his shoulders, head tilting back unconsciously to allow him better access. Her mind may be in turmoil but her body knows this is exactly what she wants.

"Nothing can be more right," he refutes, pulling back abruptly.

Her eyes fly open at the movement and he stares down into them, molten caramel searching smoky ebony, grunting in satisfaction at whatever he finds.

"But…" her weak protests are cut off as he captures her lips again, sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips, parting them to deepen their kiss.

"Deny it all you want to them. Lie to yourself if you must," he says firmly, mouth hovering over hers, eyes glittering with passion. "But don't lie to me. Never with me."

~...~

**Weave**

She was weaving up the driveway, having been dropped off by her co-workers, singing off key to God only knows what. Stumbling over the uneven sidewalk, she threw her arms out for balance as she swayed unevenly and giggled, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound as she tossed a wary look over at the apartments. It can't be.

I strode down the walk and took her arm gently, peering into her flushed face, her glazed eyes confirming my suspicions. "Are you drunk, Parker?"

Her eyes widened and she shook her head swiftly, molasses locks swinging, setting off another round of swaying and giggling.

"Sure," I snorted, putting an arm around her waist to keep her from falling over. "I believe you. How many did you have tonight?"

"S'only a sip or two," she slurred, holding up three fingers.

I snickered knowing that was more than enough due to her changed status. Holding her up, I started walking towards her apartment. "Come on Princess, let's get you to bed."

She followed me on unsteady feet, swaying off balance when her foot slid off the curb and she fell against me, arms wrapping around my waist for support. She giggled once more and finding her face planted in my chest, nuzzled it softly, making my body tighten with desire. Repressing a soft groan, I clenched my eyes shut, damning my body's response to her innocent movements.

Sighing, I moved to start walking again, but was stopped in my tracks when she pressed against my body tighter, purring deep in her throat and tipped her head back to look at me, smiling hazily. "I love you, Michael."

I let out a helpless groan and my lips quirked as I stared down at the tipsy woman, running my hand over her hair, my heart constricting at her words. It'd figure that Parker was an I-love-you drunk.

But knowing she was drunk and wouldn't remember this anyway, I smirked into her flushed face and played it off lightly. "Of course you do, Parker. What's not to love?"

"Well…" she drawled, giggling at my scowl. Even drunk the woman was a smart ass.

Bending at the waist, I grabbed her legs and cradled her in my arms, figuring we'd make better progress this way and was about to start walking again when she grabbed my attention once more.

She peered at me through her lashes, grasping my cheek and brought my face down to hers, her breath feathering over my lips softly. My breath hitched as those fathomless chocolate eyes gazed at me intently, crystal clear for the moment.

"I do, you know," she whispered against my lips. "I just never had the courage to tell you." Lifting her head up, she brushed her lips against mine, tracing my bottom lip with a light flick of her tongue, sending my heart racing before her eyes fluttered and she promptly passed out.

Swallowing hard, I looked at the woman in my arms, still tasting sweet mint as I tried to control my erratic breath and vowed she and I were going to have a long talk tomorrow. Tightening my hold on her, I carried her into the apartment, closing the door with my foot.


	27. Finite

**Finite**

She loved him. He couldn't believe it. Wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't heard the words from her lips. He had no choice but to embrace this confession because Liz may lie to the world to keep their secrets, but she would never lie to him, drunk or not.

And truthfully, he didn't want to deny her love. He'd been hoping for those words to slip past her lips since their confrontation three weeks ago. Dreamed of this moment for months. Of course, it would have been nice if she had actually stayed awake after her declaration, but well, nothing's perfect.

Looking back at the woman curled up on her bed, he crept over to lie on the bed facing her, careful not to stir her slumber. Running his fingers through the soft, chestnut locks splayed on her pillow, he can't help but wonder how he got this lucky; what he had done to be worthy, deserving of her love.

Yet he's terrified to let her in. Life has never been easy for him and love fleeting or finite, restricted within certain bounds. He'd never been on the receiving end of a true unconditional love. Even Maria, who had come close, wanted him to change. He can't help but fear that by opening his heart once more, he's setting himself up for heartache.

It's an irrational fear, but a habit he has a hard time breaking. He knows she sees him, can't help but see him because of their bond. She knows him inside and out, has seen the good, the bad and the ugly and not once has she expected him to be anyone other than himself. Not once has she run.

Running his hand over her hair, he smiles tenderly as she crinkles her nose and snuggles into his chest, placing her hand over his heart protectively, murmuring his name softly. Seems she could read him even while she's sleeping.

Throat constricting, he trailed his hand through hair, down to the small of her back and pulled her into his arms, relishing how her body fit so perfectly to his, breathing in her warm vanilla scent. God, he could stay this way forever.

And brushing a soft kiss against her forehead, he sighed as his eyes slid shut, content for once in his highly restrictive life and ready to embrace that it held infinite possibilities.


	28. Bind

**Bind **

Moaning at the throbbing in her head, her eyes flutter open and fall on the man sleeping peacefully beside her. How many nights had they slept like this, unaware of the other's growing feelings?

She remembers when they first met. If anyone had told her then, that not only would she and Michael be friends, but that they'd be comfortable enough with each other to share a bed, she would have laughed. After all, they were strangers bound together by a secret. They weren't friends, just a barely tolerated acquaintance.

Those ties shifted the night he returned her journal to include mutual respect and acceptance, with the hint of something that they kept buried in their hearts. But the bond was still shaky at best. She's not really sure when that tenuous bond became the ties of true friendship, but eventually they grew closer to each other until their lives irrevocably entwined together when their metaphysical bond snapped in place.

The bond they couldn't break despite repeated attempts to appease their significant others. That bond confused them and they fought it at first, uncertain why they were able to bond with each other and not Max or Maria.

She understands it now. It was preparing them for the next step – the bond that will tie not only their hearts to each other, but that of their souls as well. It a step she's finally ready to take.

She's known his feelings for weeks but said nothing, still running from her own. But she's done with denial, through running from the feelings he evokes in her. It was time.

He shifted, drawing her out of her thoughts, his eyes blinking open to meet hers and he smiled sleepily. "Hey."

"Hey," she said softly, a smile tugging the corner of her mouth despite the pounding in her head.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asked, smirking slightly.

"My head feels like it's stuck in a vise," she shook her head ruefully, wincing slightly when her movement set off another wave of throbbing.

"I can take care of that," he whispered, resting his fingers along her temples, sending a warm wash of energy along her nerves, easing the pain and making her purr in relief.

She opened her eyes and snuggled closer to him, completely comfortable with his presence in her life and in her bed. It felt right. "Thanks."

"We should talk," he whispered, pushing the mahogany strands off her face, before lightly draping a hand on her waist.

"We should," she agreed, meeting his rich honey eyes. "But I need to do something first."

"What's thammph," his words cut off by soft lips pressing against his, moving over them in a slow, sweet kiss. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him, lips parting under the warm wet tongue massaging his bottom lip, their tongues tangling languidly in an unhurried, exploring kiss.

Breaking away, she smiled at his slightly dazed expression and smirked, "That was so you didn't think I was too drunk to remember last night."


	29. Clarity

**Clarity**

It was a small moment – what should have been inconsequential seconds, a mere rush of breath and a soft whisper of words – yet it completely changed the fabric of her life. How could it not?

They weren't just any words, but _thee_ words and one's she never expected to pass his lips.

They represented a mental state often ephemeral, elusive and indefinable. No words could ever do the feeling justice. Poets have tried and failed. Science would babble on about chemical reactions and pheromones, but what did that really say? It certainly didn't even begin to explain that warm glow that was so much more than mere hormones.

They held the power to undo even the most guarded soul; to crystallize and define emotion in a terrifying rush of clarity.

He loved her.

Shivering, her breath hitched and she stared into bright caramel eyes, cloaked in wonder as three words redefined the order of her black and white existence; shading it with colors beyond her dreams. What had she ever done to deserve this man?

Smiling tremulously, she cupped his cheek, her forehead pressing to his and whispered, "I love you too."


	30. Soft

**Soft**

She stood near the order window, leaning against the low ledge casually, one hand propping up her weight as she grinned at Kyle, laughing at one of his inane jokes, the joyful lilt reverberating through the room and he couldn't help but smile in return. It was a sound, missing all too often of late, that warmed him to the very core and he wanted to bury himself in its radiance.

Walking over to stand behind her, he leaned over, the sweet scent of strawberry shampoo and vanilla body spray teasing his senses, and whispered a smart-ass remark in her ear, reveling in the light of her eyes when she turned to him and smiled. Smirking in return, he leaned against the counter and tugged on her ponytail, wrapping one of the soft strands around his finger.

Darting a quick look out over the crowd to see if anyone was watching and finding everyone absorbed in their own conversations, she reached behind her, poking him lightly in the side before linking her fingers with his, laughing once again as Kyle rolled his eyes at their discreet display of affection.

Pressing his face to her head briefly, he kissed her temple, murmuring the sweet words he never thought he'd get the chance to share and smiled when she looked up at him, mouthing the sentiment back to him. Lifting his hand, she brushed her lips over the back of it lightly and released it as some customers walked in. Sharing a look only discernable by lovers, they parted to do their jobs and he laughed when she smacked Kyle upside the head for teasing her as she passed.

Grinning to himself, he moved back to the grill, slapping the next order on and couldn't wait for closing when he could go home and enjoy those quiet moments with her before dragging her to bed to love her until deep into the night. It was moments like these that he lived for – soft, tender, sweet and oh so precious. They made all the heartache worthwhile.


	31. Legend

**Legend**

She didn't see it coming. Neither of them did. Who could have considering the rocky beginnings of their acquaintance?

_He_ had been so closed off. _She_ had been too blinded by hero worship to see the beauty and strength that stood behind the throne.

_They_ had been compared to Romeo and Juliet, their house to that of Camelot. But reality is not the stuff of fairy tales.

And in true Arthurian legend, the king fell, unable to see the woman behind her crown. Yet his knight stood, always aware of the light that lies behind her mask.

In the end, that's why she chose him; her champion for life.

~...~

**Allow**

His lips are gentle, even when we're lost in a passionate embrace. It always surprises me no matter how many times we kiss. Everything about Michael is usually rushed, impatient, hurried – until you're in his arms.

There he softens, as if you're the most precious gift in the world. The tempered strength of his usually forceful arms wrap around me gently, cradling me against his body. But it's never weak, just reverent. That tempered strength makes me feel sheltered, protected and so loved; wanted more than I have ever been in my life.

It's a common misconception among people who don't know him well that because he's careless with himself that this proclivity will leak over to others. But they'd be wrong. What care he doesn't show himself, he lavishes on the ones he loves.

Those skeptics have the nerve to ask, how I can allow myself to fall under his spell. How can I allow him in my life without thought? How can I love so deeply after the pain his brother brought me? And for them, I only have one answer:

It's Michael, how can I not?


	32. Ash

**Ash**

He crouches by the fire quietly, ashen face blankly staring at the embers burning low and tries to dredge up even the slightest hint of remorse for the past week's events. He knew this moment had been coming since the night of Liz's confession and the admittance of his own feelings the next day.

Max stared at the dying fire between them, poking at the ashes with a stick, trying to restore life to a long dead flame. His shattered eyes were red-tinged, lips tight with barely suppressed anger and hurt.

It's fitting they'd have this conversation here, the symbolism of the dying fire not lost on him. He can't help but equate the smoldering ruins to a funeral pyre mourning a friendship that had died years previous and the ending of a love that had been doomed at destiny's kiss.

His jaw still ached where Max's fist slammed against his cheek. He expected that. Figured he deserved it for falling in love with their Queen and having that love returned, scattering any misguided hopes of reconciliation to the four winds. Yet, even faced with his brother's bitter countenance he can't make himself feel guilty for the love that rose from those ashes.

Max, finally giving up on the fire, tossed the stick away and looked up at him, amber eyes blazing, face pinched. "Why her?" he asked as if you could chose who to love. "Of everyone you could have gone for, why Liz?"

He studied the ashes scattered around them – not just those of the campfire, but also those of his brother's shattered dreams and unrequited hopes, of loyalty that doesn't have the same pull as it once did.

Taking a deep breath, he fixed the other man with a level stare. "It's Liz, Maxwell. Do I really need to say any more than that?"


	33. Protect

**Protect**

He's standing there, so self-righteous, confronting Liz about our love. Begging her to reconsider and demanding to know how she could hate him so much as to turn to his brother when she refuses to cave.

Typical, Max. Can't get what you want or force someone to comply with your wishes, abuse the person in question. When are you going to learn that never works?

Keeping an eye on the two of them through the order window as I clean the kitchen, I tense as I see her jump back when he rushes her. Dropping my towel, I jump through the order window to her side, anger coursing through my veins, and shoved him off her, pushing her behind me, fixing Max with a pointed glare.

"Watch it, Max," I grate, sending him a warning look, planting my feet, holding Max's hateful gaze. I knew this would happen, which is why I refused to leave them alone to talk. Something about his aura had made my stomach sink with dread when he walked in tonight. "Baby, go into the back room."

"But Michael…" she protests, then quiets when I looked over my shoulder briefly, softening a touch at the worry lurking in my eyes.

"Please," I plead softly, quirking my lips when she rolls her eyes and leaves, sighing with exasperation. I watch her walk away reluctantly, fighting her desire to stand by my side, but I need her safe. God, how I love that woman.

"How touching," Max bites out hatefully, sarcasm dripping off his voice, steeling my spine and drawing my eyes back to him, staring him down until he starts to fidget. Max never could hold his own against me.

"You'll want to keep your hands off her or you'll deal with me," I said, steely determination ringing through the room as I cross my arms over my chest, keeping myself between him and the woman that holds my heart.

"Whatever. Neither of you are worth my time," he spat in disgust, throwing a glance at the door, then swinging blazing eyes to me, face twisting with a cruel smile. "Enjoy my leftovers."

A red haze clouds my vision, my blood boiling as rage courses through my veins, my clenched fist drawing back and striking him across that smug countenance, sending him flying to the floor. He sits stunned, pressing a hand to his lip as I stalk over, grab him by the lapel and drag him to his feet.

"You can say or do whatever you want to me," I grate contemptuously, fixing him with a hard glare, dragging him to the door. "But you will show her some God damn respect! Especially after everything she has done for your pathetic ass! Now get out!"

Tossing him out the door, not caring enough to see where he lands, I slam the door shut and lock it with a snap of my wrist, washing my hands of my so-called brother. Turning my back on him, I shake off my anger and stride to the back to hold _my_ girl.


	34. Spatula

**Spatula**

He suppressed a heartfelt groan, spatula clattering uselessly to the ground as soft, slim hands traveled up over his hips, snaking under his shirt to tease the taut, warm skin of his stomach. His girlfriend was in a mood and had been teasing him all night.

"Jesus, Liz, are you trying to get me killed?" he choked breathlessly, grabbing her hands and stilling their movement. "Your dad could come in at any moment."

"Mmmm…nah uh," she whispered, rising on tiptoe to brush warm, wet lips across the nape of his neck, sucking at the spot that always drove him crazy. "He's upstairs. We're safe for the moment."

He moaned helplessly as a small, pink tongue flicked over his neck, hands clenching before he spun around and yanked his tormentor against him, his lips crashing down on hers, prying them apart to sip at the sweet heat behind them. Slanting his mouth against hers, he stroked her tongue languidly, hand fisted in her long silky tresses.

"Lizzie!" Her father's voice snapped the lovers out of their sensual haze and they hurriedly broke apart trying to compose themselves as he trooped down the stairs into the kitchen. "Can I get your help in the office for a moment?"

"Of course, Dad," she called weakly as he popped in the door. "Umm, just give me a moment. I need to…uh…explain an order to, Michael."

"All right, see you in there," he called over his shoulder as he walked away. "Oh, and Michael, you might want to rethink that lipstick. It's _not_ your color."

Cringing, Michael glowered at the tiny brunette grinning at him sheepishly, swiping a hand over his mouth. "You're so paying for that tonight, Parker," he grumbled, swooping down to pick up the abandoned utensil and snorting at her unrepentant grin, swatted her on the ass as she ran from the kitchen giggling before tossing it in the sink.


	35. Fire

**Fire**

She sways her hips in time to a seductive, hypnotic beat, her hair thrown up in a messy bun leaving the line of her neck bare, a fine sheen of sweat clinging to her skin. She's been doing that all night nearly driving me to distraction.

Watching her from the corner of my eye, I mark her progress through the diner, tracing a fiery path along that long, elegant neck, thinking of how much I want to brush my lips along the nape. Slide my lips over the arch to the pulse fluttering just under the surface, swirl my tongue over the frantic beating, taste the sweet, saltiness of her skin.

Smirking, I give a low chuckle as she scratches at the back of her neck in agitation, as if she can hear my thoughts and languidly make my way over with stealthy, deliberate steps to stand behind her quietly.

Flicking my gaze over her, I breathe in her intoxicating blend of strawberries, vanilla and something uniquely her as I lean over her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body, my arms caging her in. Fine espresso strands dance as my breath fans over her neck, her damp skin pebbling as I brush my lips against her ear, "Need any help?"

Startled, she jumps and pivots to face me, our lips hovering inches apart, breaths mingling, hands flying back onto the table to steady herself. Hot toffee eyes flaring, she stares at my mouth through her lashes.

"H-help?" she stuttered, small puffs of air escaping her parted lips as the tip of her tongue flits out moisten them.

"Yeah, Parker, help," I whispered, crowding her back into the table behind us, brushing our bodies together as her eyes fluttered shut and bit back a moan. "Do you need any?"

"N-no, I'm just about done," she gulped breathlessly, knuckles whitening with strain as she clutched the table, her body swaying against mine.

"Are you?" I rasped as I gathered her up and slammed her on the table, nudging her legs apart with my knee and slid between them. "And here I thought we were just getting started."

"Oh, God," she whispered gripping my shoulders and shuddering as I lightly cup the back of her neck, brushing my thumb over her rapidly beating pulse, her eyes filling with smoky brown fire.

Dipping my head, I brush my lips over hers lightly, barely touching, just a sweet whisper of movement and mingling of damp breath that sends bolts of electricity running through my body. God, she's intoxicating.

"M-Michael, anyone could see," she protested weakly against my lips, yet squirming to notch herself against me, fingers tangling in my hair as she wrapped her legs around my hips.

"Let them," I growled softly, gripping her hips and pressed her deeper to me, grinding against her as I continued the assault on her lips. "Besides, you know what that hip thing does to me and you've been taunting me all night. Time to pay up, Parker. You know better than to play with fire."


	36. Bear, Divine

**AN:** First, I realized I posted the wrong piece to **Covet** in this series. While it's similar, it has a very different ending than another vignette of the same name. That's what happens when you lack the inspiration to rename one of the pieces. Both have the same start, but I modified the second in an offshoot series called **Tempest** when one of my betas was being evil one day and said she'd like to see it become a Rath/Liz/Michael triangle. Evil people betas...always sparking the muse. So I edited this series to include the correct vignette. Second, this next vignette, while short, has explicit adult content that rates a Hard R and borders NC-17. If it's not to your taste, you miss absolutely nothing by skipping **Bear**. Just a little smuttiness that continues on from **Fire**. The one following it, **Divine**, still contains adult situations (read references to sex) but isn't as blatant. Enjoy!

* * *

**Bear**

"Michael, please," she gasped, a shiver of desire coursing through her body as he lowered his head, lightly flicking his tongue over her taut stomach, before dipping it into her navel.

"Please what, Parker?" he smirked, flicking smoldering whiskey eyes up at his squirming girlfriend, before trailing his lips over the subtle curve of her stomach.

"I can't bear anymore, please," she cried breathlessly, body arching when warm lips grazed across her inner thigh and placed a wet kiss against it.

"No, I don't think so," he chuckled as he trailed his lips up her thigh, stopping just short of where she wanted his tongue, switching sides to repeat his actions. He'd been drawing their love making out for an hour now, working his mischievous girlfriend to a frenzy. He had warned her.

Liz growled when he refused to give into her desires again, grabbing for his head to make him comply and missing when he ducked out of reach. "Damn it Michael, stop teasing!"

He smirked at her obvious frustration, reaching between her thighs, lightly tracing his fingers over her wet slit, pressing her hips into the mattress with his other hand as her hips bucked under his touch. "This what you want, Liz?" he queried silkily.

"Oh God, yes," she whispered, a breathy moan tumbling over her lips, fighting the hand holding her hips to press herself into his hand, whimpering with frustrated need when he continued his light strokes.

"Learn your lesson, yet?" he smiled, fiery eyes sparkling devilishly, and dipped his fingers into her wet heat, stroking her leisurely for a moment before pulling back, chuckling. He knew he was so in for it later.

She whimpered softly, teeth sinking into her bottom teeth as he stretched above her, sliding his hands over sensitized skin, pressing his body to hers and leaning to whisper breathlessly in her ear. "Want to come, Parker?"

"Yes, God damn it, you tease!" she cried, glowering in frustration, grabbing his head and yanking it down to hers as he drove into her in one smooth stroke, shuddering as electricity danced along his skin.

Both knew that they wouldn't last long after his prolonged enticement.

~...~

**Divine**

It has to be Heaven. That's the only possible explanation. He died and some mix up in the books sent him to this divine place rather than being thrown into the pits of hell.

Running callused hands over her soft curves, his lips brush hers reverently as he seats himself deeply into her body, gasping as an electric current surges through him, making them both quake internally.

God, she feels so good, so right.

Moving against each other in a slow, languorous dance, their hands slide along sweat slicked skin, fanning the emotional inferno raging across their nerves like a hot desert wind, before locking together in unity.

Capturing her lips possessively, he drives one final time before they shoot to the stars, white-hot heat radiating around them as their souls entwine and the bond they forged years before cements into a permanent seal branding their souls forever.


	37. Tattoo

**Tattoo**

Irritation courses through her blood as she stalks out of the club muttering under her breath about stupid, hard-headed alien men.

"Oh come on, Liz. He practically had his hand on your ass!" he griped, trying to catch up with his fuming girlfriend. "He had no right! You're mine."

Liz spun around, fixing the sandy-haired man with an exasperated glare. "Well gee, Michael, why don't you just tattoo your name on my ass so there will be no mistaking next time!" she bit out, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Michael cocked a brow, gazing at her ass in contemplative interest, a smirk spreading over his face at the thought. He knows just where he'd mark her too, near that cute little dimple….

"Don't. Even. Think of it," she huffed, pointing a finger at him, eyes flashing with annoyance. Spinning back around, she continued to storm down the walk towards their car, hair sailing behind her.

Michael scrambled after her, coughing to cover his amusement, "Liz, baby, I was just kidding!"

~...~

**Tattoo X2**

"Wow, chica!" Maria exclaimed, from her perch on the fitting room bench where they had been trying on bathing suits. The two women were finally taking some much needed girl time. "I never knew you had it in you!"

"Had what in me?" the brunette asked, looking down at her conservative suit in confusion, seeing no reason for Maria's awe.

"The tattoo!" she grinned. "I thought you said there was no way you'd ever get one because you were afraid of dirty needles and thought it was ridiculous."

Liz looked over at her friend wondering if she was high. Obviously Maria had been sniffing too much cedar oil lately and finally started hallucinating or she was the butt of some joke she couldn't understand.

"What are you talking about? I didn't get a…" she trailed off as her jaw dropped before clenching in irritation and swinging her head over her shoulder to look at her ass. "I'm going to kill that man!"

"What?" Maria asked, confusion clouding her face momentarily before brightening as her friend's words sank in and she gave a hearty laugh. "Oh Michael, you are so dead!"

"Please tell me for his sake that it isn't his name!" she huffed, hastily pulling on her clothes and gathering up the swimsuits she had tried on.

"No, just the Antarian seal," Maria snickered, eyes tearing with mirth. "Okay, chica, start talking! I sense a story behind this one!"

Liz sighed in exasperation, pinching the bridge of her nose, cheeks flushing with irritation and embarrassment as she remembered her and Michael's disagreement the night before.

"Well, when we were at the club last night, this guy was hitting on me and Michael went all Neanderthal, pushed the guy away and claimed that I was his," she griped, shaking her head as they headed to the cash register. "So I told him that next time he should tattoo his name on my ass so there was no mistaking that I was his property."

"Oh my God, you didn't!" the blond gasped in disbelief before giving into another peal of laughter, her shoulders shaking, tears running down her face. "You do know in Michael Land that was an open invitation."

"Yeah, I know. I should have kept my mouth shut," she sighed ruefully as she threw her choices on the counter. "I was just so irritated, I didn't really think about what I was saying last night."

"So please tell me I'll have a front seat when you kill him?" Maria snorted, shaking her head at the alien's audacity.

"Kill him? Oh no, I have a much better idea," the brunette snickered, an evil smile stretching over her face as she paid for her purchases.

"Oh?" her blond sidekick asked, cocking a brow. "Do tell."

Liz leaned over and whispered her idea into her friend's ear, sending Maria into another fit of laughter, eyes sparkling devilishly. Leaning back, she smirked and cocked her own brow, mimicking her friend. "Well?"

"Oh, now I have to be there for THAT!"


	38. Tattoo Revenge

**Tattoo: Revenge**

Only half listening to Kyle, Michael watched his fiancé with trepidation as she laughed with the girls while they waited for Rath and Max to show up. She hadn't mentioned the tattoo last night when she returned home from shopping with Maria, but had a decided mischievous gleam in her eyes.

It seemed funny at the time, but as her silence grew minute by minute, he began to sweat and narrowed his gaze thoughtfully. That meant only one thing – she was up to no good.

"Hey, you there man?" Kyle asked, waving a hand in front of his face.

"What?" he asked distractedly, looking over at his friend, crossing his arms over his chests as he tried to figure out what Liz was up to. She had been effectively blocking him all morning, another bad sign. "Yeah, just thinking."

"Ah…that's where the burning smell was coming from," Kyle grinned.

"Shove it, midget," he said, glowering at his friend as the last two members of their group walked up. "Come on pansy, let's get this game going before we have to meet with the generals."

Turning around, he shrugged off his shirt, tossing it on the ground and cringed when he heard choked laughter bubbling out of his friend's throat, dread sinking into the pit of his stomach as he recalled Liz's satisfied smirk this morning. He had a bad feeling about this, especially when the other two started rolling with laughter.

Turning back with false bravado, he cocked a brow at his friend whose jaw was still hanging open in comical disbelief. Looking over his shoulder with growing concern, he fixated on his left shoulder blade, jaw dropping before he glared at his giggling girlfriend. Oh no, she didn't.

"Dude, I…I'm...all for getting a tattoo, Chewie, but...but a pink and...purple...butterfly?" Kyle managed to choke out between snickers. "I've heard of getting in touch with your feminine side, but that's taking it to an extreme, don't you think?"

"Hey, duke, that sure is pretty!" Rath called, laughing at the annoyance on his dupes face. "Did you get his and hers tattoos and she won?"

"And you called me a pansy," Kyle cackled, tears streaming down his face.

"Bite me," Michael snorted without heat and stalked over to the female contingent, all doubled over with laughter and patting his girl on the back in congratulations, knowing the diminutive brunette had gotten one over him . Smirking, he fixed her with a mock-annoyed glare and tackled her, pinning her squirming body to the ground. "Witch."

"That's what you get for branding my ass, jerk," she snorted.


	39. Smolder

**Smolder**

She watched him quietly from the corner of her eye, his sandy waves pulled back into a loose ponytail, sunlight streaming over his bared chest and her breath caught, licking her lips unconsciously as she watched his muscles ripple every time he moved. He was beautiful, a work of art and he didn't even realize it. Didn't even notice how all that golden skin affected her and if he did, he'd probably blush, hastily donning his shirt.

And since that would be a tragedy, she kept her mouth shut, content to keep her silent vigil, watching him through her lashes as she pretended to sleep under the trees. Tracing every dip and subtle rise with simmering chocolate eyes, she sighed longingly, aching to reach out and trail her fingers over that honeyed skin, feel that steeled satin under her fingertips.

She wonders what he'd do if she were to get up, straddle his lap and run her tongue over each ripple, every indentation and rise as she worked her mouth over taut muscles, up the curve of his neck to suck on the tender skin just above his thrumming pulse. She sighs and bets he'll taste of salt, honey and spice; of all her favorite flavors combined.

Taking in a shuddering breath, she nearly smiled when he shifted slightly, unwittingly giving her a better view and let her gaze lazily drift down his chest to take in the firm sinew of his stomach and the light trail of golden hair that lead…well to places she probably shouldn't be thinking about.

And yet, she couldn't help herself. How could she _not_ notice _that_?

Watching him close his eyes and tip his face to the sun, she moved lazily, as if she were stretching in her sleep, letting her hand brush against his skin oh so slightly, enjoying the way his muscles jumped involuntarily under her hand. Opening her eyes half-mast, she couldn't help but stare as there was an answering jolt elsewhere. She'd love trail her lips straight down over that soft downy hair and….

"Jesus, Parker!" he growled breathlessly, whipping his head down, pinning her with smoldering whiskey eyes, his gaze searing flushed skin. Reaching over, he yanked the smirking little minx against him, parted lips crashing down on hers before rolling over and pressing her into the blanket beneath them. Panting raggedly, he pulled away from her mouth, fixing her with a predatory gaze and reached for her non-existent shirt, swearing as his tormentor writhed against him. "You better be prepared to finish what you started."


	40. Table

**Table**

He fusses with the table settings for the fifth time in as many minutes, the fine tremor of nerves running through his hands. The last time he'd been this nervous over a dinner date had been the one with Maria the night before he was supposed to leave the planet.

Now he was facing another life-changing event. Glancing at the clock, he sees she'll be here any minute and continues to fuss until everything is perfect. He wants this to be a night to remember.

A man of action and few words, he's never been one to plan, instead relying on his gut instinct in most situations. But tonight, he wants give her the words, the heart he keeps carefully locked away. After everything they'd been through, she deserves to hear the words rather than just read them in his eyes.

Sliding his hand into the pocket of his slacks, he pulls out a black velvet box, flipping the case open with a snap and stares at the delicately wrote ring he'd made from one of the rings he usually wore. He knew she'd appreciate that greater than any he could have bought.

The two bands wove endlessly around each other, one in white gold, and the other yellow, symbolizing the entwining of their lives, of their souls in that life bond recently forged. It was simple and delicate, yet represented something far more complex – just like her.

Asking was merely a formality at this point. They were already mated in his people's oldest and most sacred tradition, by the blending of their souls. But he needs her to know what she is to him, what she has always been to him and always will be to him.

A soft hand touches his shoulder, startling him. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he never heard the door open and close. Looking down into her face, he notices her eyes are glued to the ring sitting in the palm of his hand and smiles ruefully. He should have known things wouldn't go according to plan. Looks like it comes back down to his instincts.

"Michael?" she looked up at him questioningly, tears wetting her eyes, wonder dancing across her face as she divines the meaning behind the jewel.

"I love you, Liz," he said softly, taking her hand, holding the ring out in front of her, his dark amber eyes drifting over her upturned face. "Marry me?"

A smile of joy broke across her face, lighting up the entire room as a tear slid over her cheek. Cupping his jaw, she pulled him in for a tender kiss and whispered against his lips, "Yes."


	41. Goal

**Goal**

Liz nibbled on her pen, pushing a strand of ebony hair behind her ear as she read through her checklist for the third time today.

"So the goal is to meet at the site at 1:30 p.m. That gives us an hour before the ceremony to iron out any problems. The ceremony lasts an hour and that leaves us an hour and a half for pictures before the reception…" she rattled off to her impatient fiancé for what had to be the hundredth time.

Michael rolled his eyes skyward as he flopped down on the couch and smothered his face in one of the stupid frilly pillows that had to be Isabel's influence, praying for the strength to make it through the next month. It's official; Liz has been infected by the Wedding Nazi. This was all Isabel's fault. He was in hell.

"I heard that," she quipped.

He tossed her an annoyed look realizing she was reading his thoughts again and running a hand through his hair, he vowed to get better control over this bond they shared. Otherwise he was doomed.

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen. It's not like I can't figure out what you're thinking without the bond," she snorted. "You're not that hard to read, Michael."

He scowled briefly before a sly smile spread across his face and quirking an eyebrow he knew how to get to her to end this planning session before he lost his mind.

"Really, Parker?" he leered, clambering off the couch to walk over to her. Leaning over, he pressed a hot, wet kiss against the nape of her neck, his damp breath rushing over sensitive skin. "So, what am I thinking now?"

"Michael, I n-need to get this done. We have things to do, g-goals to meet today if we're going to get this done in time," she gasped as he bombarded her psyche with mental pictures of them…of them. Trying to scoot around him, she stood only to meet the determined alien's fiery gaze as he yanked the pen and paper from her hands.

"Later," he whispered, grabbing her thighs and lifting her up, her arms instinctively flying around his neck for support and carried her off to their bedroom. "We have things to do all right but I think we need to re-evaluate your goals."


	42. Meadow

**Meadow**

She stands in front of an aisle, flowers in her hair, white dress gleaming against sun-kissed skin, eyes bright with joyous tears. She glows once again looking upon a beloved face.

Across the clearing, in front of a trellis arch covered with spring flowers, he stands in black, shifting nervously, dazed wonder gracing his face. He's uncertain how he got here, but knows there is no place he'd rather be.

She smiles softly and takes the arm of the man beside her, the one who has held her trust for 25 years. Today that trust passes to the man, the destiny that stands on the opposite side of the meadow. With a small nod to her father, she turns to embrace her future.

His throat constricts, Adam's apple bobbing convulsively as he tries to swallow and watches the angel gliding towards him. His heart stutters, fearing she might disappear, that she'll change her mind at the last moment. Then caramel eyes lock with coffee and he relaxes at the love he sees reflected in their depths.

Her eyes meet his and she smiles wryly at the uncertainty lurking there. Even after four years of love and devotion, he still has a hard time believing they found their way to each other; that this wasn't just a fantastical dream. Standing in front of him, she pours all of her love into that look, beaming radiantly at him as her father slips her hands in his.

He shakes his soon to be father-in-law's hand, then clasps her soft, cool hands in his lightly, bringing one palm to his lips for a gentle kiss. Pulling back her veil, his uncertainty abates and the happiness that been so fleeting over his lifetime leaks through, soaking into his very soul. He always knew she'd be the one to rekindle its spark.

She lightly caresses his cheek, basking in the glow of his smile. The gleam of it rivals the sun. To think, she was once afraid to let him in after everything that happened, after the pain his "brother" had put her through. If he hadn't braved that first gentle kiss, she never would have found true happiness, true love. The pastor's words wash over her, but she's too lost in him to register more than a handful of words and responds only when necessary.

He's amazed; it floors him that he was the one to bring that light back into her eyes. The one he had admired and slightly envied as a child. He once thought she could be his salvation. Little did he know that he would be hers as well. Yet here they were, in front of friends and family, declaring their love to the world and the pastor is asking if he promises to love and cherish her in good times and bad, in sickness and health. Choking back his rampant emotions, he smiles down into her face, voice ringing out confidently:

"I will."


	43. Haven

**Haven**

He leans on one elbow, facing his wife, watching as her hair softly flutters from the deep even breaths of her slumber. Heart thrumming, his breath stutters as he once again marvels that he's bonded to the gorgeous, passionate woman lying before him. How did he get this lucky?

A half-smile touches his lips as her nose crinkles up and she swipes at it with her hand to brush aside the fine hairs tickling her, grumbling slightly in her sleep. Lifting his free hand, he traces her hairline, lifting the strands away from her face and gently tucking them behind her ear.

Sighing with contentment, he leans over and presses soft lips to her forehead and his smile widens when her lips curve in response. Lying back down, he gathers her into his arms, tucking her against his chest, and presses his face to strawberry-scented locks, weaving the cool silk between his fingers.

She snuffles slightly before burrowing her head into his chest, murmuring softly, "Love you."

His breath hitches, always overwhelmed by that simple declaration and murmurs his response before drifting into slumber himself.

"Love you too, baby."


	44. Recipe

**Recipe**

It was a recipe for disaster. He knew it long before she suggested it; knew it when he saw the wicked sparkle in warm cinnamon eyes. Which is why he has no idea how she managed to talk him into this.

It had to be the pout, her full bottom lip - so soft and glistening pink, making him want sink his teeth into it before sucking it into his mouth - had jutted out so adorably it had to be a crime. She knew it too. Knew he couldn't resist the temptation of her lips. Pursing his own, he narrowed caramel orbs as he watched the tiny brunette thoughtfully.

This was his fault. As her general, he'd drilled into her the importance of knowing and honing all the weapons in her arsenal – powers, tools…feminine wiles. He should have known those lessons would come back and bite him on the ass.

"Please?" she whispered huskily, running her fingers through the soft, sandy waves kissing his shoulders, smoky ebony eyes glowing at him pleadingly as she chewed on that damn lip that kept taunting him, sending a shudder coursing through his body.

"Fine," he grunted, giving into the soft allure of sleepy eyes, flushed cheeks and glossy parted lips as he wrapped a silky espresso strand around his finger. Rolling sherry-colored eyes as she broke into a sunny smile, he grumbled as she gave a little wiggle of victory and tugged on his hand. "But only one dance, Parker! I mean it!"


	45. Counter

**Counter**

The situation warranted counter measures. Not that he isn't proud of the scheming, little vixen for turning his best lessons around on him – any general and husband would be. Actually, he had to admit that it was damned sexy when she bested him. But that wouldn't stop him from reminding her who was the real master of tactical maneuvering.

Luckily, he knew his quarry well. Knew exactly what made her weak in the knees, what made her breath hitch, what made her body shiver beneath him. And while he's never been accused of being a patient man, in this case he had been more than willing to curb his more passionate, fiery tendencies until he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Following her off the dance floor, her skin flushed and glowing, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, he watched the subtle roll of her hips, licking his lips slowly. A feral smile slid across his face as she turned and leaned against the bar counter, her eyes widening as she caught the smoldering predator lurking in his.

Swallowing thickly, her breath caught in her throat, mouth drying as his eyes drifted over her lazily, promising all flavors of wickedness with the subtle pass of that tongue over his lips. Gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white with strain, she froze, heart pounding in her ears as molten caramel eyes darkened, taking on a dangerous glint.

Smirking as she squirmed under his heated gaze, he moved quietly, gracefully, languidly, like a cat, not that of your average house cat, but the primal, predatory gait of a panther. It's a walk that literally steals her breath, leaves her knees weak, her skin sweltering, her body aching with merciless desire. He's liquid sex – hot, consuming, all encompassing and there's nothing she wants more than to bathe in his sinful depths.

Crowding her against the bar, he caged her in with his arms, pressing against her oh so slightly, enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin, but barely enough for it to be anything more than a tease. Her breath stumbled, rushing over her lips when he dipped his head, pressing his face to the curve of her ear, inhaling her scent subtly as if memorizing it before marking her with his own.

Slipping his lips over the curve of her ear, he smiled at the shiver that ran through her body when his warm, damp breath coalesced around her ear and neck, teasing softly as he claimed her in a low, husky voice. "Mine."

"Yes," she whispered, breath coming in a squeak, head spinning dizzily as he pressed harder, firmly trapping her against the counter. She should have known better than to challenge him at his own game. It was one she'd yet to win, although she'd never complain with the results her challenges achieved.

"Say it," he commanded silkily, lifting a hand to wrap long silky tresses around his fist, pulling her head back gently, soft, full lips hovering over hers, waiting for her concession. He watched her with hooded eyes as thick sable lashes fluttered before they slid shut, resting against flushed cheeks and gave a little tug on her hair, her eyes flying open to meet his intense gaze. "Say it."

"I'm yours," she conceded, hazy ebony irises blackening with desire as she stared into his, sliding shut once again as his face dipped, lips barely brushing hers as he smirked, grunting in satisfaction at his victory.

"Good, don't forget it, Parker," he rasped, gripping her around the waist with one arm and yanking her against him, pressing hard plains into soft curves as he cupped the back of her head with the other, crushing his mouth to hers, branding her with a searing kiss.


	46. Soft Take 2

**Soft Take 2  
**

He stroked her slightly rounded stomach gently, placing soft kisses over its gentle swell, grinning when he felt the faint connecting hum as their daughter made her presence known. Liz squirmed beneath his light caresses, trying to hold back a giggle as his delicate strokes tickled, but she wouldn't deny him this moment.

He so rarely let his guard down that she found these moments endearing.

"Tickle?" he asked softly, caramel eyes shining up at her, his cheek pressed to the little mound that was evidence of the life they'd created together, a tender smile spreading over his face and he laughed delightedly when she connected to him once again.

"A little," Liz giggled, a warm flush spreading over her belly as the baby reached out to her daddy yet again and shook her head in wonder. She was already a daddy's girl.

"I can't help it, it's fun," he grinned, stroking her belly once again, before turning his laughing eyes to hers, his grin taking on a wicked gleam. "Almost as fun as makin..."

"Michael, lets not scar the child before she's even born," his wife interrupted, running her fingers through his hair and shaking her head merrily, leaned over, pressing a light kiss on his lips to stop the flow of his words.

~…~

**Allow Revisited  
**

"You guess you'll allow it this time?" she cries, staring at her husband incredulously.

It's a good thing she loves this stubborn man with all her heart because on days like this, it's the only thing that keeps him among the living. Was bossy and overbearing stamped on all alien genes or just his particular affliction?

"There is no allow about this, Michael," she says with mounting exasperation. "It's done. And if I deem it necessary, I'll do it again. Get over it."

"I don't know how you could do this without me. You should have waited, Liz," he grouses, frustration lining his face as he scratches his brow. "You could have been hurt!"

"Oh for God's sake Michael, it wasn't a showdown with the Special Unit!" she snapped, finally losing patience with him. "I hung up a damn picture! I'm pregnant, not an invalid!"


	47. Cower

**Cower**

"You're never touching me again, Michael! Your daughter better get used to be an only child because there is no way in hell I'm doing this again!" his wife groused, pain flashing over her face with her next contraction. "Well don't just stand there, get me some ice or do something!"

Fleeing the room, Michael hurries into the kitchen, casting a frantic glance over his shoulder. Was there supposed to be this much pain? Grabbing some ice chips from the freezer, he glances into the living room to see Kyle's laughing eyes.

"What's so amusing, Hobbit?" he asks, glowering at the man.

Snickering, Kyle gestures to the bedroom, "Never thought I'd live to see the day when the big, bad alien was cowed by a tiny girl."

"Funny. If you think you can do better, be my guest," he smirks gesturing to the bedroom, paling when he hears his wife cry out in pain. Panicking, he claws at his brow and wonders how he's going to make it through the night.

"Oh hell no!" his friend shudders dramatically. "That girl has a mean streak and powers. She's your problem."

Michael was about to reply, but a cry from his bedroom stops him, sending Kyle into a fit of laughter. "Michael, get your ass back in here now! I'm not delivering this baby by myself!"

"Yeah, laugh while you can, midget. Don't forget you're next," he said looking at his sister's rounded belly pointedly and then back at Kyle, smirking. "And Liz is the nice one."

Instantly sobering, Kyle slides his eyes from his shaggy-haired friend's retreating back to his wife sitting next to him, then back to the bedroom, blanching when the woman inside let out a piercing scream followed by a string of profanities.

Eyeing his snickering wife in trepidation, he grimaces, and letting his head fall into his hands, slumps in the chair, muttering weakly, "I'm so dead."

"Coward," Isabel teases affectionately, eyes dancing with amusement.


	48. Wonder

**Wonder**

"She's beautiful," I whispered, awestruck as I cradle the small pink bundle in my arms, tracing her button nose as I sit on the bed next to Liz. "Just like her mama. Thank God she has your nose."

Liz smirked, raising her tired eyes to mine, chuckling softly. "What, didn't want her stuck with the regal Guerin nose?" she teased, looking back down as our daughter started to fret. "She has her daddy's mouth though, complete with scowl. Great, now I have two cranky aliens to deal with."

Nudging her softly, I playfully fix her with said scowl and gently rock the infant in my arms. "You know you love me."

"I do? Is that the funny feeling in my heart when I see you?" she furrowed her brow mockingly and giggled. "I was thinking it was indigestion."

"Smart ass," I growled, smiling tenderly. "Why do I put up with you again?"

"Hey! Don't be stealing my lines," she snorted. "Get your own material!"

"Too much work, I'd rather just steal yours." I laughed, leaning down to place a soft kiss against her lips. Looking back to our daughter, wonder and love suffuses my heart. "I suppose we need to name her."

Liz snorted, "Uh, yeah, that would help. We certainly can't call her kid for the rest of her life. What about naming her after your sister? Isabel or Amanda?"

"Hmmmm, maybe for a middle name," I said, staring at our precious bundle. "But I have a better idea for her first name."

"What's that?" she asked, looking up at me curiously.

"I was thinking Claudia." I replied, looking down at my wife.

"Claudia?" she asked softly, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes at the thought of naming her after her beloved grandmother.

"Yes, Claudia. Claudia Isabel Guerin," I said.

"I love it." Liz cried softly, tears running over her cheeks as she lifted her lips to brush mine. "I wish she could be here to see her namesake."

"I'm sure she knows and is watching over us this very moment," I smiled softly, touching my forehead to hers.

"Claudia Isabel Guerin. It has a good ring to it," she smiled.

"Yes it does. Welcome to the world little one," I said, kissing her soft downy head, her bow-shaped mouth pursing into a yawn as she falls asleep.


	49. Grip

**Grip **

He watched the shorter man pace the length of the living room in agitation, having been kicked out of the room by his irate wife for the moment. He tried to warn the midget, but nothing could have prepared Kyle for the sheer terror that was Isabel in labor.

He snickered as a bead of sweat dripped along the side of his friend's face and setting his sleeping daughter into her car seat, he stood up, crossing over to him to distract the alarmed man.

Clasping Kyle's shoulder, Michael was about to tell him to stop worrying, when a particularly loud shriek had even him cringing. Kyle startled and grabbed onto the nearest thing, which just happened to be the man behind him.

Michael, huffing in exasperation, pried Kyle off and pushed him away. "Jesus, Valenti, when I told you to get a grip earlier, I didn't mean literally," he griped, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the pinched skin bruised during Kyle's death grip.

Kyle ran a hand through his hair, his horrified face flushed with embarrassment. "That never happened. And if you say anything, I'll deny it to my dying breath."

"Yeah, well judging from the screaming in the other room, you don't have long to live anyways, so suck it up, get back in there and take your punishment like a man," Michael smirked, reveling in his friend's discomfort. Payback was such a bitch.

~...~

**Snow**

She walks over to the white, blanketed ground with trepidation, brown curls dancing in the cool winter breeze, reaching delicate fingers out to touch it with hesitant wonder. Snatching her hand back, she stares at her cold, wet fingers, eyes wide and her mouth pursed in amazement as she looks back at me.

Brown eyes look back at the ground in contemplation, her analytical mind running a mile a minute and then swing back to me again.

"It cold, Daddy."

Smiling at my daughter, I watch as she takes a running leap into the bank and then look up at Liz. She's right, experiencing snow for the first time through our daughter's eyes is priceless.


	50. Journey

**Journey**

He leaned against the railing of their wrap around porch, sipping on a cup of coffee, enjoying the crisp March twilight falling around him, his son and one of his daughters giggling as they chased each other around the lawn. Breathing in the sweet, spicy scent of the pink jasmine that clung to the side of the house, he smiled in contentment, watching their careless joy and listening to his wife's slightly off-key humming as she prepared dinner.

If anyone had told him that he'd end up in a house with a white picket fence complete with cat and dog, three children and his dream girl tucked away in said house, he'd have scoffed. Nothing in his early life could have predicted his eventual outcome. Happily ever after had been a cleverly crafted lie fed to children so they didn't have to face the real world. A world he knew too well.

But life had a way of changing paths when you least expect it, throwing in an unexpected twist or curve just when you thought the path was set and denying you the things you think you want while leading you to the place you need to be. Which proves him doubly blessed to be here in this very moment.

Sipping on his coffee, he smiled as he felt a slight tug on his pants and looked down at his youngest, her soft, dark-blond waves cascading over her back and bright caramel eyes watching him intently, one thumb stuck in her mouth, the other hand tugging on her hair.

"What's up, peanut?" he asked as he set his cup down on the railing, stooping to her level, tweaking her nose softly before brushing her hair out of her eyes.

"Not peanut," she responded petulantly, taking her thumb out of her mouth long enough to respond to his question. Liz was going to have a fit if she saw her, but he didn't see the harm if it kept her happy.

"No?" he asked, eyes crinkling with laughter as she shook her head emphatically, resting her head against his arm. Rubbing her back softly, he kissed her sweaty forehead and looked at her, pretending to ponder her answer. "Then what are you?"

"Ladybug," she responded, grinning up at him, her little baby teeth gleaming in the fading daylight and giggled softly when he tickled her ribs, squirming out of his reach, her eyes twinkling as she danced away.

"I see," he nodded sagely, smacking his head as if he couldn't believe he forgot, smiling as she let out another happy chortle and pranced her way to him, rubbing her nose against his affectionately. "So what can I do for you, bug?"

"Up!" She demanded, lifting her arms out to him, jumping up and down impatiently, giggling when he swooped her up, tossing her lightly into the air before settling her in one arm and kissed her cheeks noisily until she squirmed, playfully hitting him on the arm. "Stop it, daddy!"

"But ladybugs are my favorite treat," he protested, pretending to munch on her neck and laughing when she scrunched her nose up at him, pushing him away. Kissing her forehead, he watched with amusement as her thumb made its way back to her mouth and whispered conspiratorially, winking at her. "You know, your mama is going to have a fit if she sees you. But if you don't tell her, I won't tell her."

"Corrupting young, impressionable girls again, Guerin?" Liz teased as she came up behind them, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his back, breathing in his familiar earthy scent. Peeking around him, she playfully frowned at her daughter, chuckling when she promptly pulled her thumb out of her mouth, grinning at her unrepentantly.

"Always, Guerin, always," Michael smirked, dipping down and capturing her lips in a soft kiss, losing himself in the lingering taste of the chocolate, raspberries and chili from whatever dessert she had concocted tonight. If her lips were any indication, he was in for a real treat. He only pulled away when, having enough of their display, his ladybug patted the back of his head.

Rolling his eyes at a giggling Liz, he smiled, wrapping her in his free arm and pulling her into his chest, kissing the top of her head as they turned back to their demanding child. Liz wrapped an arm around them both, resting her head against his chest as they watched their eldest children play and she sighed happily, her lips tilting in contentment.

"It's been quite a journey, hasn't it?" she asked softly, humming in the back of her throat when he lightly drew his fingers over the back of her neck, playing with the soft strands resting at the base. Snuggling deeper into his chest, she tipped her head back, coffee-colored eyes shining with love.

"That it has," he agreed as he met her eyes, feeling completely at peace, wrapped in the embrace of part of his family, chuckling when his other two trudged up the porch steps and collapsed in exaggerated exhaustion at their feet. No, he never expected life to turn out this way, but he wouldn't change it for all the riches in the world.

"And the greatest part? The best is yet to come."


End file.
